


Good Morning Midnight

by ignitesthestars



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grooming, Multiple Pairings, god like literally everyone else, this is going to be a very large au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:09:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 122,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I would have gone to the Little Palace and been spoiled and pampered. I would have dined off of golden plates, and I never would have struggled to use my power. It would have been like breathing, the way it always should have been. And in time, I would have forgotten Keramzin</i>
</p><p>In the conservatory at Tomikyana, Alina tells Mal what their story would have been if the Grisha Examiners had discovered her power. This is that tale, from the very beginning, to the bitter end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a chapter fic that got way way too big and unwieldly, and is now being continued as a sporadically updated series of short stories. Keeping it all in this one place for ease of reading!

**before.**

The girl fought.

She had stilled for a moment. The space in between two breaths. In the grand scheme of things, it was an infinitesimal length of time. It should have been meaningless.

But it was enough.

“There is something…” The woman in red frowned, hand clamping down tighter around the girl’s wrist. The girl could feel her, or some part of her. Reaching inside, reassuring. Certain. _This is who you are_ , it whispered, as it teased out some thread of her very being.

“Mal!” The girl bucked her entire body, putting all the force of her young life into her voice and into her will. She grabbed a hold of that thread, and tried her desperate best to sever it. “ _Mal!_ ”

“Alina!”

At the sound of his voice, the girl relaxed. And the world shattered, in a burst of brilliant, white light.

They put her back with the boy, afterwards. Even Grisha Examiners tired of screaming eventually. The second she was able, she fell into him, feeling his pudgy hands gripping her tight as she burbled apologies.

“It’s okay.” The tremor in his voice was like an earthquake, shaking the girl apart. It was not okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. “It’s not your fault, Alina. You – you didn’t mean to, right?”

The girl shook her head frantically. “No!” Her own spindly fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt. “They’re going to take me away, Mal.”

The boy could have promised they would not. Could have sworn he would make them take him as well. But eight years old was old enough for orphans to know what illusions the world would let them keep. There was no making _Grisha_ do anything.

“I’ll find you,” he whispered instead, and made his voice fierce to cover the fear. “Alina? I’ll find you.”

The girl nodded, and clung to the boy until the Grisha made her unclench her fingers, one by one.

 

**i.**

It didn’t take Alina long to figure out that she’d done something _really strange_. Ana Kuya had called her a lot of things, but she’d never been accused of stupidity. Once the tears had dried and she had settled into a stunned, scared silence, she was able to listen in on what the Grisha were saying over her head.

She had been bundled into the woman’s red _kefta_ and sandwiched into the troika in between the two men. The woman sat opposite them, expression tight as the sleigh lurched into motion. Not unkindly, the younger man had explained to Alina that if she kept making so much noise about leaving, they would be forced to punish Mal for it. Mal, it seemed, had been given the same warning; they had held each other’s gazes, white-faced and quiet, until the coach tore them apart forever.

 _Not forever_ , Alina reminded herself, squeezing her eyes shut against fresh tears. Mal had promised. He would find her.

“...still think we ought to have sent word,” the man in blue was saying. Alina hadn’t bothered to remember any of their names. “We aren’t prepared to deal with the possible repercussions of this.”

“We are not,” the woman said sharply. “Which is why we have left. Waiting for orders means not only time to send word, but time for word to be sent back, and then we would have to make this trip regardless. Haste is our ally now, not caution.”

“We might try for both,” the man in purple said dryly, earning himself a poisonous look from the woman.

It wasn't a word Alina was familiar with, but it didn't sound like anything good. Swaddled in the _kefta_ , she shifted uncomfortably.

Had she done something wrong? They were taking to her to Os Alta. Was she to face the King's justice? Honestly, she wasn't even sure what she had done. The woman had reached inside her, and there had been light where there was none before.

Darkness, everyone knew about. Tales of the Darklings had been passed down through generations - even Ana Kuya had made hushed mention of them on more than one occasion. They had torn Ravka apart. They kept Ravka safe. But there were no stories about light.

It occurred to Alina that she might not be facing the King’s justice at all.

 

**ii.**

Days blurred together. Alina wasn’t sure how long it took to get to the capital, only that it didn’t take long enough. Despite the man in purple - his name was Grigori, she learnt grudgingly - keeping up a litany of tales about the comforts of the Little Palace, she was still terrified of what awaited her at their destination. Any length of time would not have been long enough.

Beyond that, the faster they travelled, the harder it was going to be for Mal to catch up. She didn’t exactly have the details nailed down about how an eight year old boy was going to travel through a Ravkan winter to get to Os Alta, but he had promised. He’d find her.

As she eavesdropped on the Grisha’s conversations, she gleaned that they worried about being attacked. But even though there was unmistakable worry in their voices, she couldn’t help but notice a hint of something else. Something so alien to an orphan girl from the borderlands, it wasn’t until she played their words over and over in her little mind that she realised what it was.

That was more terrifying than anything else her imagination could summon. At least,that was what Alina thought right up until the moment she overheard the word _Darkling._

Her entire body seized, enough so that Grigori noticed. There was a pause, before the collar of the _kefta_ covering her face was tugged away, and warm brown eyes blinked down at her.

“You are supposed to be asleep, Miss Alina,” he chided.

She ignored that.

“Is that who you’re taking me to?” she demanded, sounding braver than she felt. “Is the - is the Darkling going to punish me?”

“Punish you?” Blonde eyebrows winged their way upwards. “Is that why you’ve been such a quiet little mouse?”

 _No_ , she wanted to say. She had been quiet because, even though Mal was long in the distance now, he wouldn’t always be. When they were together again, she didn’t want anyone punishing him for any outbursts on her part.

So she stayed silent, prompting a sigh from the man. “You are not going to be punished. Do you think I am a liar? I have been telling you for days now, the things you will have in the Little Palace. You will want for nothing, I promise you.”

“Especially you,” the man in blue muttered, whereupon he was immediately shushed by the woman.

 _Especially you_. The rest of the talk fell away as Alina considered that. _Different again_ , a voice in her head said.

It wasn’t until they actually arrived in Os Alta that she realised how neatly she had been distracted from asking about the Darkling.

 

**iii.**

_I can walk!_ Alina wanted to bite it out with all the ferocity her tiny body could manage, but she didn’t. She wanted to do a lot of things she couldn’t. She wanted to not be _here_.

 _Here_ was the Little Palace, or at least that was what Grigori had told her. They had told her to keep her face hidden for now, so she had only seen it in flashes as he carried her - golden domes, animals in the wood, people in charcoal clothes scurrying around. _Like rats_ , she thought, and instantly felt bad for it. It wasn’t the servants’ fault she was here, after all.

At least, she didn’t think so.

“Klara has gone on ahead,” Grigori was explaining. “So we will be seen immediately! And afterwards, I will see if I can find you some of those cakes I was telling you about.”

The most distressing part of that sentence was that, after days on the road, the cakes did sound tempting. Alina knew bribery when she heard it.

“...Fine,” she mumbled. Maybe she would be able to save one, for when she saw Mal again.

“Ahah, so she does speak! Here I was beginning to think I had imagined those lungs.”

Alina made a pained sound, feeling her face burn in humiliation. But Grigori’s chuckle rumbled through her, and she realised after a moment that she was...relaxing. The smallest amount, but enough that the man had to shift his grip on her.

“It will all be fine, Alina. You will see.”

 _It will all be fine_. There were five words that Alina did not trust in the slightest.Still, she didn’t doubt that her new guardian believed it, and that was a little comforting. She tucked her face into his chest and tried not to fall asleep to the easy rhythm of his steps. It had been a long trip, after all.

 

 **iv.**

It seemed lately that whenever Alina tried to do things, she failed at them. Blinking blearily, she rubbed at her eyes with a _kefta_ clad hand as Grigori nudged her awake, setting her gently on the ground. Even so, she stumbled a little under the weight of the material - the garment was made for an adult, after all, and Alina had never been a robust child.

“You brought her straight to me, then.”

She stiffened, hand freezing in front of her face. The voice was a new one, cool and distant. Like an ice melt, she decided, and nodded to herself before she realised what she was doing.

“ _Da, moi soverenyi_.” That was the woman, the one whose _kefta_ she was wearing. Grigori had called her Klara, not that Alina cared. This was all her fault, after all. “I apologise for the state of her, but--”

“You have done well.”

A chair creaked, and from behind her hand, Alina saw something dark move towards her. She backed away, into Grigori’s legs, but he pushed her back. She stumbled again, but this time the dark shape caught her, careful hands steadying. Instantly, she felt calm for the first time since Klara had put her hands on her.

Not just dark, she realised, lifting her head. _Black_.

The first thing she noticed were his eyes. Grey, like the sky before it rained. She tensed, expecting a thunderstorm, but the man - the black shape was a man - merely let her go, and straightened.

“I will see to the situation from here.” That ice melt voice tumbled over her head. “Your service will be rewarded, if what Klara reported is true.”

Klara and the man in blue - she still didn’t know his name - turned to leave, but Grigori hesitated. At least, he did when Alina whipped around, _kefta_ trailing belatedly behind her.

“Grigori!” she cried. Somewhere behind him, Klara winced.

Grigori glanced up at the man in black, before crouching in front of her. His face broke into an easy smile. “I will see you soon, little mouse. Remember what I said before?” He tapped her under the chin with his finger. “No crying, now.”

He stood and followed his fellow Grisha out of the room, leaving Alina to wonder if he had wanted her to remember the cakes, or his threat about Mal.

 

**v.**

The door shut with a click that wasn’t anywhere near dramatic enough for how alone Alina abruptly felt. A beat or two passed, before a rustling sound alerted her to the fact that the man was crouching down again, swooping in from his impressive height to look her in the eyes.

She caught only the briefest flash of gray before instinct made her turn her face away again. She didn’t hide it this time, though. Just looked somewhere over his shoulder, towards two heavy doors leading out of the room she was in. It surprised her to realise that she wasn’t scared of this man, even with his cool voice and his pale skin, such a sharp contrast to the colour of his clothes.

She was angry.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alina did. Or at least, she thought she did. A tremble ran through her small form. Maybe she was a little bit scared.

“The Darkling,” she said finally, still not meeting his gaze. And then, before she could stop herself-- “It’s your fault they took me.”

There was a pause, before the hint of a sigh brushed against her cheek. It felt...sad. Or if not sad, at least regretful. Startled, she jerked her head up.

The clouds in those eyes had cleared away, and if he wasn’t looking at her warmly, at least that distance had gone. He didn’t seem as old as she thought his height implied - more like Grigori’s age, really, even if that didn’t make any sense at all.

“You are right,” he said softly. “On both counts. I’m sorry for that, but if you are what Klara thinks you are, you had to be kept safe. And so did Keramzin.”

“Keramzin?” A shock of fear sent her rigid. _Mal_. And Ana Kuya, and everyone else there. Even the big kids, who would tease them for entertainment. “What did I do? What’s going to happen to Keramzin?”

Vague memories roared to the forefront of her mind. She had done her best to suppress everything about her life before the orphanage, like she was supposed to, but sometimes - sometimes she couldn’t help herself. She wasn’t an orphan for no reason.

“Most likely nothing will happen to it.” He reached out to take her arm, searching for her hand in the folds of the _kefta_ with a light touch. His fingers were long and white as they curled around her wrist, and she couldn’t help but think that the same words could be applied to hers, much smaller though they were.

Alina waited for him to address her first question, but it didn’t seem like he wanted to. As his hand closed over her skin, though, she found she didn’t mind so much. Surety washed over her; her travel-tired legs held her up better, and as she looked into that grey gaze, she felt her heart rate slow down. In the back of her mind, her memories folded themselves quietly away.

It wasn’t like Klara’s touch. She’d felt the same thing then, but it had been clouded by panic and desperation. Right now, Alina was most just confused and exhausted, both of which were feelings that got wiped away with the Darkling’s touch. When his presence reached for that _something_ inside of her, she simply sighed back at him, and let it rise.

She didn’t shatter this time, so much as unravel. That something inside of her became something outside of her, a soft warm glow that danced over their joint hands before it reached out to the rest of the room, brighter and brighter until she had to squint against the glare.

Alina could still see him, though. It was only a brief second, but she was starting to learn that sometimes, a brief second was all the world needed to turn itself upside down. Something flashed across his face.

It looked like hope. And with their hands and their beings connected like they were now, Alina didn’t feel scared. Not like she had when she’d heart that same note in the voices of the other Grisha.

_This is what you are._

 

**vi.**

“You have heard tales of me, I’m sure.”

The Darkling had set her in one of the uncomfortable chairs at his long table, but not before calling for servants. One of them had bought more cushions. It didn’t make the chair any more comfortable, but Alina knew how to be polite.

She hesitated. The tales she had heard were the kind of stories that Ana Kuya had banned, both because they scared the children in the orphanage, and because - well, the Darkling was the leader of the Second Army. Even Alina knew that you weren’t really supposed to say bad things against that sort of person, although people did anyway.

He lifted the lid from a tray another of the servants had brought in, and gestured for her to help herself. “It’s all right. I’ve heard the worst ones. If people weren’t afraid of the things I might be able to do, they wouldn’t feel secure in my ability to protect Ravka.”

Alina turned that one over in her mind as she leaned forward, inspecting the tray. It was food, she realised. A tremulous smile touched her face when she saw the cakes. Had Grigori sent them? Or did the Darkling just like sweet things? Either answer was a good one, she felt. Still, she had to glance up at the Darkling to double check, making sure it was definitely okay for her to take one.

Her small smile was echoed on his mouth, except with more confidence. “Go on, _solnyshko._ ”

Sudden warmth spread through her. _Solnyshko_. Little sun. Grigori had been calling her little mouse, of course, but that only served to remind her of how powerless she had been. How frightened. _Little sun_. She reached forward and took a cake, hesitated, and then quickly snatched another. Mal would never believe this.

“I’ve heard stories about Darklings,” she said finally. “One of them created the Unsea.” That one, at least, she knew was fact. “And...you do what I just did. But with shadows.”

He reached forward and took a cake of his own. “Right on all counts again. But do you understand what it is you just did?”

Alina looked down at her hands, now sticky sweet. She swallowed a mouthful of cake, and took another second to find the right word. She could only think of one. “Light,” she said finally. “I made light.”

“You made light,” he echoed. She couldn’t help but notice that half of his treat was already gone. “That is why you had to be taken from Keramzin. The Unsea is more than just a tale for scaring children. It strangles Ravka, makes us weak. What you can do may mean an end to that weakness. And Ravka has enemies, people and countries who would think nothing of burning down an orphanage if it meant destroying you.”

She froze, hand halfway to her mouth. “But--” _You made light_. The other name for the Unsea was the Shadowfold. “But I’m just a child! A nobody! And Keramzin doesn’t have anything to do with what I did, why would anyone--?”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. The thought itself was too distressing, and she could feel that thing inside her fluttering up her throat, beating at her chest. _Let me out. Let me out. I will stop them, let me out_.

The Darkling reached out again. Somehow, his fingers weren’t even a little bit sticky as he laid them over her arm. Calm rocked through her, and she stared up at him with wide eyes.

 _Kind_ , she thought, as he looked back. _He looks kind_. And unlike Grigori, he hadn’t threatened anyone she cared about to get her to behave.

“Some people in this world would rather extinguish light than let it grow in someone else’s hands,” he said quietly. “But there is no reason for them to harm Keramzin or anyone in it, now that you are gone. And as for you, _solnyshko_ \- I will protect you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**i.**

Mal didn’t come that night.

There was a part of Alina that knew she was being stupid, even as she set the now-lopsided cake on her new bedside table. She had travelled saints knew how many kilometres, and was locked up tight in the Little Palace under the protection of the _Darkling_. No one was going to come to her at all, probably.

But the rest of her had noted the stares as a servant led her and her too-big _kefta_ through the halls. The rest of her had been allowed to keep her head raised this time, and so had been able to stare, open-mouthed, at the inlaid mother-of-pearl in the walls. The rest of her had gotten in a one-sided argument with the servant about the definition of dormitory when she was shown to a room of her own, and the rest of her had fallen abruptly silent upon realising that the servant couldn’t argue back.

“What’s your name?” she’d asked, a little desperately, but the woman was already sketching a quick bow and backing out.

The next day, she knew, she was to have a bath. Clothes would be made for her. She could have what she liked for breakfast, and while she wasn’t to meet the other children yet, the Darkling was to take her to see something called a Baghra (a demon?).

Alina wished she hadn’t eaten so much cake. Her stomach knotted nervously as she slowly struggled her way out of the _kefta_ and into the bed.

Her lips formed a silent _o_ as her back hit the mattress. Spindly hands patted at the sheets, like that would somehow tell her what kind of magic the thing was made out of. Could the Small Science harness clouds for sleeping on?

_Wait until Mal sees this_ , thought the part of her that had saved the cake. Alina wriggled further under the covers, keeping her gaze locked on on the treat. That was what she was going to focus on. Not the cake, but on what Mal would do once they were reunited, and she could tell him everything that had happened like it was someone else’s story. Someone else’s Grisha, someone else’s light, someone else’s Darkling. Someone else’s hope.

 

**ii.**

_Alina is at Keramzin._

_Her fingers knot tightly with Mal’s, and they glare fiercely at anyone who dares to even look in their direction._

_They won’t be separated again._

_Something niggles in the back of Alina’s mind, though, like she’s forgotten something. But Mal is tugging on her hand to follow, and so she does, the two children racing down the long corridors of the duke’s mansion._

This is right _, she thinks, feeling the point of connection between them growing warmer. The air around them takes on a hazy quality._ This is the way it’s supposed to be.

_“There you are, little mouse.” Grigori looms out of nowhere, his hand clamping down on her wrist. “Remember what I said before? Behave yourself, or we’ll have to punish your friend.”_

_“Leave her alone!” Mal growls, his child’s voice ineffective, and that’s when the first explosion hits._

_“Get the girl!” a rough, accented voice yells. “_ Solynshko! Solnyshko!”

_It’s supposed to be an endearment, but the word twists into something violent, something awful. Alina cries out, and the world turns white._

 

**i** **ii.**

“Don’t hurt him!” The room was light where it had been dark before, but it wasn’t the glaring brightness of her dream. A vague shadow moved by her bedside, holding a lamp, and her first thoughts leapt to the cool grey gaze of the Darkling.

Panicked as she was, she couldn’t tell if that makes things better or worse.

“Shh.” The voice was the opposite of ice-melt, warm and fluting. A girl’s voice, and as Alina’s eyes adjusted to the light, she realised it was being held at a height not much greater than what she herself could manage. “You are in the Little Palace. No one is going to hurt anyone, I promise.”

“Ugh.” The sound of another girl’s voice came from the hallway, and Alina’s fingers twisted in her covers as head jerked over to the door. Another dim light silhouetted three or four curious shapes there, and she caught a flash of blue eyes. “What a racket. Who is this annoying little brat?”

“Go back to bed and get your beauty sleep, Zoya,” the voice from her bedside breezed. “I know you need it.”

Alina didn’t have a lot of experience with making friends, but she definitely knew all about making people mad. She hadn’t even said anything, but that comment still probably hadn’t started her off on good footing. A sniff came from the doorway, and either Zoya thought herself above replying, or couldn’t think of anything to say; Alina heard a muttered _come on_ , and the shapes moved back out into the hallway.

“You should ignore her,” the sweet voice next to her advised. A faint _thunk_ sounded, as the lantern was set next to the cake on Alina’s bedside table. “She thinks that because she’s top of all her classes, she’s top of everything else, too.”

“Why--?” Alina’s voice cracked. She swallowed, tried again, wondering why it felt so rough as she did so. “Why are you here? Why were _they_ here?”

Gentle hands found hers wound in the covers and started to tug them away, one by one.

“You were screaming. I came to help. They came to be rude.” The girl gave her hands a quick squeeze. “The first couple of nights here can be scary, I don’t blame you. But you’re safe.”

Alina felt tears prick at her eyes, and turned her head to wipe her face angrily on her shoulder. Just because someone was being nice to her was no reason to get all weepy. She thought about what she’d do if Mal were there, and the sound of explosions rung in her ears.

“Not me I’m worried about,” she mumbled.

“You family will be fine, too,” the voice said officiously. The hands moved away from hers towards the covers, and after a moment or two, Alina realised she was being tucked in.

She didn’t protest. Her body was wrung out already, and waking up in the middle of the night probably wasn’t going to help that. She had no idea who this person was, but if she wanted to looked after Alina for a couple of minutes, she was welcome to it.

_I don’t have a family_. The words stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth, blocking any further sound. If she’d had one foot put wrong for her, she wasn’t about to kick the other one after it. No one needed to know she came from Keramzin.

“What’s your name?” she asked instead.

The girl’s moved into the flickering glow from the lamp, and for a second, Alina was convinced she was still dreaming. Golden eyes drank in the light from the lantern, set in the most perfect, elegant face she’d ever seen. Especially on a girl who couldn’t be much older than herself.

“Genya.” A smile tugged at full lips. “Genya Safin. What do I call you? Unless you’d prefer to go by ‘annoying little brat’.”

“Alina Starkov,” she said immediately, _solnyshko_ ringing in her ears. “And - thank you.”

“Don’t worry about thanking me,” Genya said lightly. “Just take a bath tomorrow. You smell.”

 

**iv.**

The robes she was given were black.

That was only after she'd rolled around in the bath for about an hour. She'd spent ten minutes badgering the servant about how long she was _really_ allowed to stay. Finally frustrated, the woman had cautiously suggested that an hour would probably be enough, and so Alina had dutifully made use of every second.

The robes though, were something else. Back at Keramzin, dark clothing hadn't been that unusual, although black usually faded out to grey sooner rather than later. Judging by the reverential way the servant handled the robes, though, black clearly meant something different in Os Alta.

She remembered the dark shape of the Darkling the day before, and shivered. He had been kind, but Alina wasn’t sure if that meant anything. Some of the older children in Keramzin had been kind too, before pushing her down or stealing her share of dessert when they had it. Sometimes, kindness was just a way of getting closer to people so you could hurt them better.

He was standing in the room she had been given when the servant led her back there, idly inspecting the cake on her bedside table. There was an amusement in that clear quartz gaze when he turned it on her, but nothing mocking.

“Leave us.” The servant was gone almost before the words left his mouth. He never turned away from Alina. “If you want sweets, _solnyshko_ , you only have to ask. There is no need to hoard them.”

“I wasn’t--” Her voice started off irritable, but _solnyshko_ brought her dream back to her, and the way the servant had been so eager to leave. She swallowed, dropping her gaze. “Okay.”

“You weren’t?” The curiosity in his tone was gentle, but Alina gave a mute shake of her head in response. He sighed, changing the subject. “I heard you didn’t sleep well, last night.”

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean to wake people up. I won’t do it again.”

“No. It’s my fault.”

Despite herself, she looked up, confused. He had set the cake down again, and was staring out the window, onto the grounds of the Little Palace.

Alina wasn’t used to people _not_ trying to blame her for things.

“I gave you information yesterday that you may not have been ready to hear. I wanted you to understand that you were keeping Keramzin safe by being here, and ease your worries, but it seems I’ve made things worse for you. I’m the one who should be apologising.”

Despite herself, despite the fact that she had indeed woken up screaming the night before, Alina bristled. “I’m - I can handle it,” she protested, cutting off the word _strong_. She wasn’t strong, she’d already proved that, but she still wasn’t some pampered baby who didn’t know what to do with fear.

She didn’t want to be coddled.

“You’re a child, _solnyshko._ You aren’t supposed to handle things.”

“My name is Alina,” she muttered, and earned only a chuckle in response.

“Come,” he said easily, sweeping past her to the door. “Baghra doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

 

**v.**

Baghra didn’t like much of anything, Alina learnt.

“Hurry up,” a harsh voice bit, as the Darkling pushed open the door. “You’re letting the hot air out.”

If the Darkling was ice melt, this woman was the permafrost. It took everything in Alina not to turn around and walk out the door again - or worse, hide behind her companion.

"So this is your Sun Summoner," Baghra grated. "Step closer girl, let me see you."

Startled, she glanced up at the Darkling, who inclined his head back at her. _Sun Summoner? Is that what I am?_

One clawed hand grasped her chin as she stepped forward, turning her face in the dim light. For all that the hand was bent like an old woman's, there wasn't a wrinkle to be seen on Baghra's harsh features. That, Alina decided, was far more unsettling than being handled like a side of beef.

"Not much to her," the woman groused finally, letting go.

That was true.

"She's eight," the Darkling said dryly. "There isn't supposed to be much to anyone at eight."

"I just thought that Ravka's saviour would have more meat on her bones, that's all."

Ravka's _what?_

Baghra cackled at the look on her face. "How much have you told her, boy?"

"Enough." He seemed irritated, and Alina couldn't tell if he meant that he had told her enough, or if he had had enough. "Teach her. Help her reach the true extent of her power - as you have all your best students."

There was a strange twist to his mouth that Alina couldn't begin to understand, and the dark humour was gone from Baghra’s voice when she spoke again.

“And if _that_ is not enough?”

Those quartz eyes remained clear as it flickered down to Alina, offering her a kindness in his gaze, even if it didn’t reach his mouth. “It will be.”

 

**vi.**

When she got back to her room that afternoon, the cake was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for making it to chapter two! I hope you like the story so far. Next chapter will be Alina settling into life in the Little Palace and getting to know the people around her better. Drop me a note to let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**i.**

The next morning, Alina created her first ever stunned silence.

Actually, it might have been her second, but she had been too busy screaming and crying when the Grisha Examiners had dragged her power out of her that she hadn’t really noticed _what_ their reaction was.

There was no avoiding this, though. It started with a whisper, an elbow curving sharply into a set of ribs. Like fire through a forest, Alina watched her presence flare through the throng of children’s faces in the mess hall, leaving nothing but quiet in its wake.

At first, she thought the Darkling had decided to accompany her, was maybe standing just out of her line of sight. She twisted her head, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Just the disappearing charcoal back of the servant who had shown her to the hall, and the black of her own shadow.

_Black_. She scanned the scene before her, noting the colours. Just like the real Grisha - red, blue, purple. A brief flash of white, surrounded by empty space. But no black.

Alina began to wish she’d asked for her old clothes back. They were ratty and faded, but she doubted they would have parted the crowd the way her current outfit did, as she hesitantly stepped into the sea of other students.

Almost instinctively, her eyes sought out the other outsider, that flash of white. Like everyone else, the wearer was looking at her. Unlike everyone else, Alina recognised who it was. It was hard to forget a face like Genya Safin’s, even if she’d been half-blind and three-quarters asleep the last time she’d seen it.

Without really thinking about it, her body turned in that direction. She had just enough time to notice gold eyes widening, before a navy flutter broke her line of sight.

"I am Zoya." The voice was instantly recognisable, although Alina hadn't seen her face the night before. Looking at her, she wished sourly that she couldn't see her now. Maybe Zoya wasn't as beautiful as Genya, but she had hair like sable and eyes a richer blue than the sky on a summer's day. And there was none of Genya's kindness in that gaze. "Come, sit with us! Tell me your name, where you are from. Being new in this place can be _so_ troublesome."

“They call me ‘annoying little brat’ sometimes,” Alina grumbled, before she could stop herself. She watched the realisation hit Zoya’s face, and tried not to wince. She’d woken up screaming the night before as well, although this time no one had come to investigate.

There was a pause, before the other girl smiled. Try as she might, Alina couldn’t see anything in it that wasn’t genuine. That made her even more wary.

“So you are the one who has been having such trouble sleeping?” She sighed, her lips forming a sympathetic pout. She couldn’t have been more than ten to Alina’s eight, but there was something about her that seemed that much older. It was the same with all the children around her, it occurred to Alina. Like they weren’t really children at all, but small adults in waiting, who knew too much of the world already. “It will pass. Soon, you will think of this place as home.”

Zoya neither apologised, nor stood by her remark from the other night. Of course, you didn’t need to ask for forgiveness if you didn’t think you’d done something wrong. Whatever spell her black clothes had cast over everyone else, it seemed like it had only half worked on Zoya.

“It is not your place to be inviting anyone to sit anywhere,” a new voice said flatly. An older boy in red had worked his way through the crowd, and was eyeing Alina with a frown on his face. “If she is wearing the Darkling’s colours, then she should be with the Corporalki.”

The boy didn’t offer an explanation for this, but he didn’t seem to think it needed one. Alina started to edge her way around the pair as Zoya’s eyes flashed, and she turned a sweet smile on him. “Are you suggesting that she should not eat here, where the Darkling has clearly decided she must be? Because I see no Coporalki, Ivan.”

Alina missed whatever it was the teenager growled back, her slight form slipping away without too much trouble. There were a few snickers throughout the crowd, but she thought they might be directed at the other two Grisha students rather than her.

Genya was shaking her head as Alina slipped into one of the empty seats next to her. “You should have chosen one of them to sit with, Alina Starkov.”

But her eyes said they were glad to see her, or at least that was what Alina thought before Genya lowered her lashes.

“I think Zoya would eat me instead of breakfast. And what would I talk to a teenage boy about?”

“Didn’t you think there might be a reason why there are so many empty seats around me?” Genya’s voice was soft.

“Well.” Alina pretended to consider the idea. “I thought it might be because you smell.”

She didn’t, of course, or at least not of anything nasty. But the comment was enough to pull a smile back onto Genya’s beautiful face, and Alina felt a surge of pride.

She wanted to ask why Genya dressed in white, but the other girl did her the courtesy of not asking after her black clothes, and so Alina held her tongue. Instead, she asked her what Corporalki meant, as the rest of the children slowly crept in, inexorable as the tide.

Ivan and Zoya broke off their argument, but apparently Alina was stopping the sea today, too.  While chair or two got eaten up by the crowd, there remained a solid, empty circle around the girls in black and white as Genya quietly explained the different Grisha ranks to her.

 

**ii.**

Classes were a blur. Alina wasn't a bad student, but it was hard to be a good one when you had twenty other children elbowing each other away to get the seats closest to you.

Genya, being older, took different classes, some of which apparently involved private tutoring like Alina's were supposed to. Alina knew getting attached was a terrible idea - she could still feel Mal's fingers clenched around hers, and wanted to weep with the ache of them missing - but the loss of Genya's calm, cool presence made it that much harder to focus on lessons that were already like nothing she had ever experienced.

_Ravka's saviour_ , Baghra's voice taunted in the back of her head. The Darkling hadn’t elaborated on that, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Grisha was hard enough to get her head around for now, and the screams from Keramzin in her dreams still lingered.

That wasn't the only thing keeping her distracted, however. There was a warmth in her chest that had never been there before - or, if it had, she certainly hadn’t noticed. When she closed her eyes, she saw only brightness, and her fingers tingled like she was holding them to a fire after a day out in the snow. Like the Darkling, Baghra was an amplifier, and she had made Alina light up that tiny old hut the day before.

Alina didn’t entirely understand everything that was happening to her. Words like saviour and the Shadowfold seemed like such massive, distant things, even when they were being said right in front of her. What she _did_ understand was that, even though Baghra was cranky and confusing and more than a little bit scary, Alina’s entire body vibrated at the prospect of getting to go see her that afternoon.

Of being taught, as her best students had been.

 

**iii.**

She had thought it would be more difficult.

It seemed like it should be. She had struggled so hard against being discovered, at Keramzin (not that she’d known what she was hiding), that it seemed wrong somehow for it to be easy. For Baghra to bark at her to summon, and for Alina to reach deep inside herself and pull out some of that stuff that turned into the sun in her hands.

But she was alone, and at times she could pretend that the warm whisper of the light was actually the tug of a pudgy hand in hers. More than that, her nightmares didn’t leave her; she noticed some of the more tired-looking girls glaring at her when they thought she couldn’t see. If Keramzin was going to burn every night, she wanted it to be for a good reason.

“What are you smiling about?” Baghra snapped, thumping her cane on the floor.

Alina eyed her warily, looking up from the glow of her fingertips. Ana Kuya’s quick hand was no match for that thing.

“I’ve seen worms with a brighter shine,” the woman continued. “You think you can be proud of a thing like that? Fjerdan assassins shooting you in the face ought to feed your ego well, then!”

The accents in her nightmares, incidentally, had taken on a distinctly Fjerdan flavour.

“I’m still _new_ at this,” she growled back, sounding more petulant than she was really comfortable with. Baghra drew a loud _ouch_ from her with her cane against her shins, and the light sputtered out.

“What does new have to do with anything? You were born with this power, girl, just like you were born knowing how to breathe. Stop treating it like it’s something you have to get used to!”

“I _do_ have to get used to it,” she muttered, dancing out of reach of the cane this time.

But she breathed, and the light came.

 

**iv.**

Her thoughts strayed to the Darkling more than once. The other students seemed to think she had some sort of deep and secret connection with him - she hadn't shown them anything special, after all, in either powers or scholastic talent. Alina even heard it whispered that she was his daughter, the next Darkling being hidden in plain sight.

She didn't think the Darkling was a father at all, not that an orphan had much cause to recognise parental instinct. But then, maybe that was it - they both felt alone in the world in some intangible way, something she could never explain to the other children.

She also didn’t see him as much as they seemed to think she did. Alina got the impression that he didn’t usually spend a whole lot of time around eight year olds. She thought about informing him that she might actually be nine by now, but she didn’t think that would help matters.

“You’re still having nightmares,” he said softly one afternoon, when he was done asking how her lessons had gone. They were sitting in the same room she had been brought to on her first day, and she kicked her legs a little restlessly as they shared a platter of cakes again. The sounds of construction in the near distance occasionally interrupted them. Alina had done her best to be honest with him, and the faint smile that had crossed his mouth when she’d told him about her summoning had been worth the small frown over her other lessons.

She blushed, and whipped her head around so he wouldn’t see it. “They’re not that bad.”

“Bad enough to wake up the other children, still,” he pointed out. Alina wondered if it was possible to die from too much blood in the face.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” she bit out. And she was, although her tone made it sound like she felt the exact opposite. “I _know_ I should be used to it. It’s not like this is even the first time this is happened.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, and the fire from her dreams mingles with an older, very real disaster. She’d had nightmares when she’d first come to Keramzin, too. Slowly, surely, they’d faded away as she’d come to realise that even though she was away from everything she’d ever knew, that didn’t mean she had to be alone.

Mal had come. And she’d thought that meant the nightmares would be gone for good, but it seemed like they had just been kept at bay. And now her buffer from the world was gone.

“You were taken from your home to Keramzin.”

“Keramzin is my home now,” she said automatically, and then swallowed. “Um. I mean--”

“And you were taken from that place and brought here,” he interjected smoothly, and there was something like understanding in his voice. “Many Grisha children find the transition difficult. But most are not uplifted twice in such a short time period. You feel unsettled. Like you don’t belong.”

She hesitated for a long moment. She had never actually _seen_ the Darkling do anything that could be construed as remotely dangerous or threatening, but stories didn’t come from nowhere.

“I wear black,” she said finally, careful to cut anything out of her tone that might sound accusatory. “No one else wears black, except for you. It makes me different.”

The fact that people were falling over themselves to get to know her didn’t help, didn’t make her feel anymore welcome. It only confirmed that she was something strange.

“You are different.” Something flickered behind those grey eyes, turning them warm. “And it’s not because you wear black. You wear black because you’re different.”

“That doesn’t help at all,” she huffed, and then clapped a hand over her mouth.

He laughed, reaching out to gently tug her fingers away. Abruptly, all her warring emotions were wiped out, flattened out by a wave of easy certainty. Without thinking about it, she tried to keep her hand in his as he moved to pull away.

This time, it was the Darkling’s turn to hesitate. He stared at her for a moment, before allowing her small hand to remain tangled with his fine, pale fingers.

“You aren’t different because you don’t belong, _solnyshko_ ,” he told her quietly. “You are different because you belong here more than they ever will.”

 

**v.**

“It’s driving everyone crazy, you know,” Genya said, as the two girls walked arm and arm towards Alina’s room. Alina felt her heels drag with every step; she knew it was irrational, but the room was where her nightmares happened, and she occasionally wondered if it was the source. If somehow all her confusion and fear had seeped out into the walls, collected itself during the day only to smack her around at night.

“What?” Alina blinked, earning herself an eyeroll.

“Not knowing what you can do. Usually people talk about it, or show off. Or if they don’t, their clothes give an indication. But you just showed up out of the blue, the Darkling’s favourite, wearing his colours, and no one knows why.” Genya gave a happy little sigh. “It’s wonderful.”

She wrinkled her nose. Her door loomed up before them. “Why is it _wonderful_?”

Genya even shrugged elegantly. “It’s a lot easier to pretend that the stares aren’t for me when I walk with you.”

Without warning, Alina’s feet stopped where she was. Her arm slipped out of her friend’s - but could she call her that? Grateful to be around someone who didn’t seem intent on pleasing her (or plotting her untimely demise, it was hard to tell with Zoya), she’d never really stopped to consider why Genya would _want_ to be her friend.

Was it really just because black clothes overwhelmed white?

_You are different because you belong here more than they ever will_. The words had warmed her at the time, but the Darkling wasn’t here now, and it was hard to hold onto that feeling without him. Genya, aware that something was wrong, frowned back at her.

Alina hadn’t learnt to hide her emotions, like Genya and other children such as Zoya seemed to be so good at doing. Her hurt and confusion was slapped across her features for anyone to read, and Genya let out a low cry of dismay, hurrying back to her. Gentle, delicate fingers wrapped around hers, squeezing tight.

“I haven’t asked,” she reminded her. “And I won’t. Not unless you want to tell me. You’ve been so good, not badgering me about what I have to wear, staying with me even though I’m sure you’ve heard tales from the others--”

“I haven’t,” Alina said quickly, feeling something like relief crawl over her. “I mean, I think people have tried, but I don’t really listen. I already hate how they talk about me, I wouldn’t want to do that to you.”

A smile trembled on that perfect mouth. “You aren’t anything like what I would have expected a favourite of the Darkling’s to be.”

“I think that’s a good thing,” she muttered. Genya’s laugh broke through the threat of tears, and she pushed on ahead to open Alina’s door.

And stopped.

“Alina?” Her voice was uncertain. “Didn’t you used to have - well, things?”

“What?”

She didn’t get an eyeroll this time; instead, there was genuine concern on Genya’s face. Alina shuffled forward to peer into the room.

There was a bed in there, stripped bare of anything like sheets. And that was it.

“There you are.” The Darkling’s ice melt voice cascaded over her from behind. She yelped, spinning around, but not before she caught sight of Genya’s eyes going very, very wide.

His face was utterly blank, enough to make her shiver. His gaze flicked, and she somehow knew he had caught the motion. Alina felt abruptly small and very insignificant, and wondered if this was what the rest of the world felt like all the time in his presence.

“Walk with me,” he said after a moment. “Genya. I know you have a class soon.”

There was nothing in his words that counted as a dismissal, but Genya ducked her head and walked off immediately, not even turning her head to look back. Alina waited for the Darkling’s demeanor to soften (it did), before scowling up at him.

“Her next class isn’t for nearly an hour, and I’m not seeing Baghra until the afternoon. We were going to spend that time studying. And where’s my stuff?”

“I will help with your studies,” he said, like that was the point. He started to walk, and Alina lurched after him. “As for your belongings, I’ve had them moved. You room wasn’t...suitable.”

A frisson of fear cracked through Alina, but she slammed it shut. He hadn’t gone through so much trouble already, only to decide that _she_ wasn’t suitable. At least, she hoped.

He walked fast, though, and while her stamina had much improved since coming to the Little Palace, it was still hard for her to keep out. “Wait,” she puffed, reaching out the snag a fold of his _kefta_ without thinking.

The Darkling stilled, and for a second she thought she’d done something horribly, terribly wrong. But then he gave an exaggerated sigh. “I forgot how short your legs are.”

“They’re not that short!”

“Short enough.”

He seemed to take some kind of pleasure in the way she drew herself up in outrage, which was _mean_. “You really are cruel,” she mumbled, and earned herself a surprised laugh.

“Only when called for, _solnyshko_.”

He took her out of the building reserved for the younger Grisha students, across the grounds to the Little Palace. He was leading her towards the same room they always met in, the one she knew sat outside his personal chambers. _That_ made no sense at all, not until he shifted direction slightly, and Alina remembered the sound of construction nearby the last time she had visited him. He led her, not to his rooms, but to a door nearby them. There were two guards in charcoal - _oprichniki_ , Genya had called them, members of the Darkling’s personal guard - stationed outside it.

“Our best Grisha move into the Little Palace to continue their education,” he said. “And one day, you will take your own lessons in here, instead of the students’ building. But I have no wish to uproot you a third time, and the children’s dormitories are no place to settle, anyway. I thought you could use a place of your own to call home. It might - help.”

Alina was so used to being certain around the Darkling, it took her a second or two to register that he seemed - less sure of himself, somehow. Before now, he had always been sure, calm. In control.

Now, she realised, he wasn’t. He didn’t know if she would like this or not, and he wanted her to. She felt like pointing out that he could have just _asked_ , but he was holding the door open for her and what she saw took her breath away.

It was simple. The Darkling’s taste didn’t run towards ostentatious, she thought, or at least not blindingly so. The room wasn’t a bedroom, but an antechamber done in rich blues and soft golds, the occasional edging of black here and there. It held a table, and chairs that actually looked comfortable. A plush sofa sat fatly alongside one wall.

“The bedroom is through there.” He nodded towards a door carved out of some dark wood. “All of your things were moved into that room, although I noticed you don’t have many personal items yet. If there’s something you want, _solnyshko_ , you only have to ask.”

Her lips parted, and then paused. She could point out that this was only moving her further away from the other students, when she had already told him how separate she felt. But his words lingered in her mind still. _You are different because you belong here more than they ever will_.

She couldn’t think of anything that would establish that difference and belonging more than this. The black clothes had been one thing, but this was on a whole other level. And Alina found that she…

Didn’t mind.

Her only friend aside from the Darkling was Genya, and Genya didn’t fit either. Maybe she didn’t have her own set of rooms like this, but Alina could invite her over without too much trouble. Genya might even prefer it - she had just said that she hated being stared at, and surely the older Grisha wouldn’t care about two little girls wandering around as much as the people their own age did.

There were more people who _wanted_ to be her friend, of course, but Alina hated that. Hated the voices, the press of bodies, the way she couldn’t tell who was sincere and who wasn’t. Grigori had seemed nice, but once she was no longer his responsibility, he had disappeared - she hadn’t seen him or the cakes he’d promised once he’d handed her over to the Darkling. She’d already proven to herself that morning that she found it hard enough to trust even Genya.

And there would definitely be room for Mal on that sofa. If he ever came.

“I love it,” she said, turning her face up to The Darkling and smiling. “What else would I need to ask for?”

He smiled down at her, and it melted the sharp planes of his face into something kind. “I hope you’re always this easily pleased.”

 

**vi.**

He left after that. Not just her presence, but the Little Palace, going off somewhere with the Second Army. Alina threw herself into her studies, and didn’t bother telling herself she didn’t miss him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**i.**

Alina's new rooms changed things.

Maybe it was because she had been so unused to people looking at her before, that she was so attuned to them now. Alina imagined that if people looked at you all the time, you'd start to get used to it - and it occurred to her uneasily that in the future, that might happen to her as well.

But it hadn't happened yet, so when the eager desire to get to know her shifted into something more calculating, cautious, she noticed. People no longer fell over themselves trying to sit next to her, but instead took their time, communicating amongst themselves with a strange mixture of whispers and Significant Looks.

Slowly, Alina started to realise that a hierarchy was forming. Instead of being first in first served, she noticed that the people sitting nearest to her in class settled, like a pool of water after something large and unnatural is tossed into it. There was a boy, Sergei, who simultaneously tried to assert his superiority while deferring to her, and a girl called Marie, who seemed to take Alina's natural reticence as a challenge, chattering a little nervously at her throughout the day.

Actually, both of them seemed nervous, a strange glint in gazes that they threw at her a little too often to be natural. It took her a couple of days to realise that they were both seeking praise, and waiting to be dismissed, teetering on the edge of wanting to please – wanting to please _her._

There was a part of Alina that liked that, although it was still overshadowed by her earlier uneasiness. Still, that uneasiness might have started to ebb, especially as she began to slowly respond to the overtures of her fellow students, if not for the fact that even Genya's attitude was starting to change.

She was definitely trying to remain warm, but Alina wasn't stupid. She could sense a wall between them now that hadn't been there before, a careful distance that the girl was constructing. She didn't shy away when Alina took her arm, but she had stopped offering it herself, and she outright refused to come and visit Alina in her new rooms. She'd been in and out of Alina's neat little room in the dormitory, but apparently the Little Palace was beyond her.

And the teasing stopped. Genya had always been kind, but now that was all she was. It was only when Alina realised that the other girl hadn't called her smelly in about a week, that she also realised she'd barely thought about Mal in that time period.

Instantly, guilt swamped her. Between classes and the other students and worrying about Genya's new aloofness, there hadn't been a lot time to focus on how much she missed him, but that - that wasn't the point. Not thinking about missing him was like saying she didn't missed him, and there was still that quiet ache in her chest that said she very much did.

Except, it was quiet now. Alina gnawed at her lower lip, flopping back on the giant, golden bed in her quarters to stare at the ceiling. The night sky was splashed across it, exactly as it would appear if there had been no roof at all.

Well. Not exactly - it was only the afternoon. But when evening fell, it did feel a little like being outside. Alina groaned, her thoughts still flitting around like annoying, buzzing flies. _F_ ocus!

Did Mal miss her? She was sure he had to. They'd been each other's sanctuaries, and a couple of months in Os Alta couldn't change that. Of course, that only made her feel worse. How awful would it be, if he showed up some day and she didn't recognise him? Didn't even remember him?

 _But he's not a Grisha_ , a silent, smirking thought pointed out. _How is he going to make it here if he's normal? Powerless? They don't just let orphans waltz on into the Little Palace because you miss them._

 _The_ oprichniki _aren't Grisha_ , she argued back, wincing as it occurred to her that she was fighting with herself. Maybe that was why Genya had started pulling away. Because she was going crazy.

But the thought of the _oprichniki_ stuck in her head, and after a moment or two, Alina shot back up again. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she hopped down, pushing through the door into her receiving room, and then through the entrance to her quarters. Two _oprichnik_ guards stood there, etched in black and gold, although she thought they were different ones than had been there the last time she had looked.

"Excuse me," she said. One of them started, and then blinked down at her.

"Did you need something, _moi_ \- uh, _moi_ —"

He didn't know what to call her, Alina realised. "Alina is fine," she said quickly, saving him the trouble of stumbling around for a title she definitely didn't need or deserve.

He looked a little green at the thought of using her given name, but swallowed and nodded. "Can I help you?"

Her head bobbed seriously. "I was wondering where you got your gloves from."

"My gloves? Are you cold?"

"No, I just wanted a pair. It's important, I promise."

There was a beat of silence, before his face softened out of surprise and into kindness. Quickly, he shucked off his own gloves and held them out to her. "Here, _m_ \- Alina. If it is important, take these."

A protest rose up in her throat, only to die there. It was important. And surely he wouldn't have offered them if it was a big deal? Thus reassured, she flashed him a quick smile and reached up, taking the gloves gratefully.

"Thank you! This will be very helpful." On a flash of inspiration, she added, "What's your name? I can tell the Darkling you were so kind."

Whiteness chased away the remnants of green in his face. He must, Alina thought, be very pale.

"Erik, miss," he said after a beat.

" _Alina._ "

"Yes, miss."

 

**ii.**

The gloves went into the bottom drawer of her dresser, once she'd dumped out everything that was already in there. It was a lonely looking place when she finished, the accessories tucked forlornly into one corner, but Alina promised herself it wouldn't stay that way.

That was how bits and pieces of Os Alta started to make their way into her bedroom. She acquired a full set of cutlery over four separate nights, and while she couldn't manage a proper plate, she _did_ pilfer a delicately painted porcelain cup and saucer. After she popped her head out another day and ask another _oprichnik_ where she might get a hat like hers, Alina found that scraps of the black and gold uniform started to make their way into her receiving room, until eventually she had a full set.

She spent a good hour trying to make the boots fit in the drawer without taking up too much space. No doubt the uniform would be a wrinkled mess when the time came to pull it out again, but Alina wasn't really focussing on that. She didn't think Mal would, either

(She asked for extra hot chocolate when the servants bought her dinner tray, and carefully parcelled it out to the guards).

They were small, silly things mostly – but that was sort of the point. Orphans learned how to take things nobody would miss all that much. The drawer was a record of her time in the Little Palace, and something like insurance.

If she had all of these things ready and waiting for him, to tell him about and share, she wouldn't forget him.

 

**iii.**

The Darkling, when he returned, brought with him a set of intricately painted nesting dolls. There had been some at Keramzin, she could remember that, but those had been worn, the faces rubbed away by years and years of being handled by sticky little fingers.

These were new, and they were all hers. Not used to receiving gifts, Alina stuttered out something like a thank you, which he immediately waved away.

"You'll find I spent much of my time away from the Little Palace. If I don't bring you gifts, how will I know you will remember me?"

Alina stilled. She couldn't quite recognise the flash of emotion that flared through her, but she didn't like it. Concern, maybe? Worry?

She wasn't doing anything wrong by saving things for Mal. But she still didn't want the Darkling to know.

"I don't think—" she said, realising she'd been quiet for a moment too long. She began to unstack the dolls, piecing them together again and lining them up on his long, dark table. They were Grisha, alternating red and blue and purple. "I don't think that anyone has ever forgotten you."

His gaze fell upon her, and for a second, Alina felt like she was being observed by a total stranger. This was not the quiet, easy-going man who had been chuckling at her comments and seeing to her comforts. Those grey eyes pinned her in place, and she squirmed a little, not liking it.

That seemed to snap him out of it. He blinked, and the stranger was gone, the Darkling she had come to know in some small way back in his place.

"You've been sleeping well?" he asked, as though nothing had happened.

"…mostly," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. He bore her stare with good grace, and there was no hint of that cool steel that had just about run her through.

"And if I were to ask your guards, would they say the same thing?"

"I didn't know, you put them there." There was a sullen huff to her tone that Alina didn't care about. He'd unsettled her, and she was going to make sure he knew that that wasn't okay.

"Ah." Good humour laced that quiet voice. "I've offended you."

"You were _creepy_."

"I was?" Two dark eyebrows flew upwards. "Well, if you say so, that must be true. After being on the road so long, I couldn't be tired, or distracted, or hungry…"

It hadn't _felt_ like a tired look to Alina, but then, she'd never seen him any of those things either. The Darkling did have a strange face, it was true – beautiful, of course, but how often did you call a man beautiful? It was strange. Maybe it made strange hungry faces, too.

"If you're hungry, we can have cake," she announced.

"Then I suppose I am hungry."

He asked her about her classes, and she skimmed over the material, focussing instead on the new behaviour of her fellow students. The Darkling didn't seem all that surprised, and he didn't exactly offer helpful advice, either.

"It's the way of the world, _solnyshko_ ," he told her with a simple shrug of one shoulder. "They have realised that you aren't simply some curiosity I've picked up, but a Grisha with real power. They are starting to treat you seriously."

"But I haven't _done_ anything." And she didn't think that explained Genya, who had never treated her like a curiosity.

"But now they know you can. Watch them, carefully. You can learn as much from the people around you as from your lessons, if you pay attention." There was a pause. "You haven't shown them what you can do."

It wasn't a question. Alina supposed it didn't need to be – he definitely would have heard if she'd been flashing her light powers around. She looked down at her dolls, and fidgeted a little.

"I wasn't sure if…I was allowed to. And it's not like I can do anything impressive, anyway."

"Allowed to?" He seemed taken aback by that. "Your power is yours, _solnyshko_. If you want to use it, use it. As for impressive, the smallest flicker from your fingertips is already more impressive than the entire Second Army."

 _Ravka's saviour_. She felt like she was missing something, but there was no putting her finger on it. Alina might have been getting used to the strangeness of her new life, but she was still only young. Figuring out what any adult wanted was hard, much less this one.

Later, she stacked up the dolls again and set them on top of her dresser. All except the smallest, whole one. That, she tucked into one of the gloves in her bottom drawer, and refused to feel bad about.

 

**iv.**

Zoya sat next to her at lunch.

Genya was still on Alina's other side, of course, although there was more of a gap between them than there had been in past weeks. Alina tried to tell herself it didn't bother her.

Zoya had taken the place of the same boy she'd fought with, all those weeks ago. It took Alina a second, but she saw the cleverness in that - Ivan was nearly fourteen now, closer to graduating than anyone else whose name she had been able to remember. If he pressed the matter of sitting next to Alina, Zoya would be able to shrug it off as a much older student taking precedence, rather than Alina showing favour to anyone.

Ivan had sat next to her yesterday. He hadn't said much, and Alina honestly _preferred_ that, but Zoya had never sat next to her before. She still wasn't used to the politics of this place, but it was simple mathematics to understand that giving one person a seat two days in a row while rejecting someone who had never sat by her was a sign of favouritism. Whether she actually meant that or not.

So when Zoya sat down, Alina did nothing. Ivan scowled, but it was directed at the beautiful girl in blue, not her. Internally, she breathed a sigh of relief. Ivan might not have been a Corporalnik yet, but that didn't mean he didn't have the skills of a Heartrender.

Zoya shook her hair back over her shoulders, giving a bright smile that bypassed her eyes entirely. "I thought I would save you from a morning of being grunted at."

"Who's going to save us from you?" Genya murmured, and Alina stifled a giggle. She hadn't heard the girl say anything that could be considered 'sharp' in weeks.

A cool gaze flickered over to Genya, assessing. Alina had seen that look on other people what felt like a thousand times since she had befriended the other girl, and prepared herself to get her hackles up when the inevitable dismissive glance away came.

But it didn't. Zoya simply titled her head to one side, stacking her plate with food. "If you are afraid of me, Genya, you may leave. You wouldn't be the first."

It should have sounded ridiculous coming from so small a person. But Zoya made it sound as threatening as anything Alina had ever heard an actual Grisha say - which of course only had Genya lifting her chin stubbornly.

"The day a walrus like you makes me afraid of anything is the day I leave the Little Palace and never come back."

There was a moment of silence. Neither girl said anything, but the atmosphere was suddenly oppressive. Alina held her breath, afraid that if she shifted even a centimetre, something would explode. Zoya's eyes dipped to the white of Genya's clothes, but Genya's jaw only tightened further. Another beat passed, and then Zoya turned back to her breakfast, like nothing had happened.

And maybe nothing had. But the tremble in Genya's hand as she gripped her knife tighter implied otherwise.

"I thought," Zoya said, "that I would offer my services as tutor. Obviously I don't know what you can do, but you are taking a heavier load of Etherealki-based classes. I'm the best in my year, and better than most people above me."

Alina's eyebrows shot up. It was arrogant, maybe, but the other girl wasn't bragging. Rather, she spoke with the self-assured tone of someone who knew that every word she was saying was true. Genya's tremor made her want to say no outright, made her want to turn her back on the other girl and tease her friend, ease the tension. But there was a curiosity in her too, something that wanted to sink its claws into the situation and dig a little deeper.

_Watch them, carefully. You can learn as much from the people around you as your lessons, if you pay attention._

She resisted the urge to press her face into her breakfast and leave it there. This was all so _exhausting_. Wasn't it just supposed to be school? Why did it matter who got to sit next to her? Why did Zoya - who she was pretty sure would never have approached her if she had been wearing some other colour - want to tutor her? Why did she have to weigh all of these things up as though she were choosing to send someone to their death?

Power, Alina decided, was overrated.

"Why do you want to?" she asked. Other than that first encounter, they hadn't exchanged a word. She definitely didn't think the other girl had any interest in helping her out of the goodness of her heart.

Zoya sniffed, chewing and swallowing before she deigned to reply.

"I'm not going to embarrass either of us by pretending it doesn't have anything to do with who you are. And I'm not going to pretend to be all _nice_ and sappy to get on your good side." She didn't glance at Genya, be she didn't have to. "I think we can help each other. That's it."

Not so long ago, she would have turned to Genya to get her opinion, or even just a smile of encouragement. Now, though, she simply turned the idea over in her head. It wasn't only classes Zoya could help her with. The girl had a confidence that even Genya couldn't match, an innate belief that she was always right.

Alina _wanted_ that. Little mouse, Grigori had called her, and he had been right. The Darkling himself had separated her from everyone else in Ravka, marked her out as special, but what had she done to claim that? Had nightmares and been moved away from the others to stop them from waking up?

She hadn't even displayed her _real_ power to them, too caught up in her thoughts and worries to think about proving herself.

"Fine," she said, spooning some extra sugar onto her porridge. She'd eaten half of it already, but it still tasted bland. "Then let's help each other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I just want to give another big thank you to everyone who's left a comment all kudos. Asking people to care about what an eight year old is getting up to can be hard, so I'm grateful to everyone who's given the story a shot.
> 
> I do want to note that if you're finding the relationship between the Darkling and Alina disturbing at this point (or their potential future relationship), that's definitely intentional. I love the Darkling's character a lot, but a nice person he definitely is not. (rhyme!) The guy who didn't hesitate to try and enslave a teenager isn't going to hesitate when it comes to manipulating a young child.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again, and I hope you liked the chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**i.**

The light flared bright, scouring every dark inch of the dark cottage, leaving Alina breathless with laughter.

At least, until a cane jabbed her in the side.

"Ouch," she yelped, dancing away. The light winked out of existence, like someone had slammed a door shut on it.

"Where's your head at, girl?" Baghra demanded, scowling at her. "When I tell you to focus, you focus. You don't set the whole place alight like you're leading some sort of parade."

"I've never seen a parade with a Sun Summoner at the head," Alina sniffed back, rubbing the ache above her hip.

"Oh, now Ravka's saviour is too good for parades?"

"I'm not—"

But she broke off with a huff, recognising that there was absolutely no point in arguing that point with the woman. Instead, she changed tactics.

"You spent weeks and weeks hitting me for not being able to make it big enough. I just lit up this whole hut, and now you want me to make it small again? Make up your mind!"

"Power is nothing without control," Baghra spat. "Yes, yes, you can light up a hut. And if the walls of the hut weren't here to stop it, you might light up the forest. And when you command troops in the field, you can blind your own people as well as the enemy."

"Troops?"

Baghra surveyed her without pity or remorse. "Some Grisha are weak enough that a lack of fine control is no matter. You do not have that luxury. You'll learn, and you'll learn well. There is no 'or else'. That's your option."

_The smallest flicker from your fingertips is already more impressive than the entire Second Army._ Alina gritted her teeth. "Well, I'm not leading troops at the moment!"

"Is that the problem? I'm sure it could be arranged."

It sounded like a threat. Something she should have been afraid of. But in the safety of the Little Palace, memories of war were a distant thing for Alina. She hadn't lied when she told the Darkling that her nightmares had lessened, and when she had them now, she woke whimpering more than screaming. It wasn't Keramzin she worried for anymore, but Mal. And she didn't worry about Mal getting hurt.

She worried about him disappearing. It was harder and harder to remember the boy's face as the days slipped away, even as she continued to add dutifully to her drawer (the most recent addition was a jewelled brooch given to her by Marie, in the shape of a butterfly).

He wasn't the only thing she worried about disappearing.

-And the point was, Alina's fears did not include leading troops. The girl pictured, for a moment, her own tiny form at the head of her _oprichniki_ and an assortment of Grisha students, charging into the Shadowfold. Maybe her fears _did_ contain a bit of Baghra, but not enough to stop the quiet giggle that escaped her at the image.

Baghra just looked disgusted. "Do it again, already."

 

**ii.**

Alina didn't do it again. Releasing her power these days was a joy, throwing off her restraints and letting it slip free, luxuriating in the sensation. it felt _good_ , and that had been such a rare feeling for her in her recent life, that she failed to see the point in reining it in.

Baghra could mutter about controlling troops all she liked. If it was really all that important, the Darkling would tell Alina to do it, like he had told Baghra to train her. Plus, if Baghra was such a great teacher, wouldn't she be able to get Alina to do what she wanted sooner or later, anyway?

She wasn't hurting anyone by doing what she wanted, just for a little bit. And if the idea of forcing her power in on itself, making it smaller than itself, made her want to throw up? No one had to know that.

"Do I have something on my face?" Zoya's suspicious voice interrupted Alina's musings.

She started, having fallen out of the habit of being interrupted. These days, people usually spent at least five minutes judging whether or not she looked like she was feeling open to being talked at. Maybe she had been musing long enough that Zoya had already done it, but Alina rather doubted that. The other girl tried, but she no matter how good she was at everything else, she was terrible at deferring to people.

"That's not going to be on the test, right?"

Blue eyes narrowed for a second, like the other girl was reading the words in the air, analysing them for hidden meanings.

"Saints, Zoya, it was a joke," Alina muttered, dropping her head to her book.

Genya's absence throbbed keenly, if an empty space could be felt. She had tried, for the first couple of days, to keep her friend with her as a sort of safety net when she studied with Zoya. But the two of them had been awful, snarking and sniping at each other until even Alina had to admit they were getting nothing done.

She had her lessons with Zoya when Genya had her own private tutoring, now. And she suspected that the fact that those lessons occasionally bled into time that Genya _didn't_ have lessons wasn't an accident, but the things Zoya taught her were so interesting, she couldn't exactly get upset about it. The girl's sharp tongue made her a miserable excuse for a friend, but it certainly gave the lessons an edge.

"So my face is a joke now?"

Alina eyed her for a moment. She looked like the doll the Darkling had sent back while he was out of the capitol, small face perfectly formed and stunning.

"Yes."

A titter was heard from nearby, and Alina jerked her head over to scowl at Marie, who was sitting with a girl who might have been called Nadia.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you eavesdropping is rude?" she snapped.

The effect was instant. The giggling stopped, and both Marie and Nadia fled the library without even picking up their things, rushing out apologies as they passed. Her scowl slipped back into a frown, but it was too late to apologise. She hadn't meant to make them run.

A snort drew her attention back to Zoya. "If they are going to be obnoxious, they could at least stand their ground about it."

"Like you?"

There was another of those pauses, and Alina felt herself being sized up and assessed before Zoya smirked. "Obviously. Everyone needs a goal."

Alina blinked, before a startled laugh escaped her. It was as much at the situation as at Zoya's words - the other girl had clearly been trying to gauge whether or not she could get away with making a joke. She tried to imagine Mal seeking permission for something like that, or even Genya, and her laughter died in her throat.

"Come with me," she said abruptly, scooping up her books and notes.

Zoya's jaw tightened, and Alina felt a little thrill go through her; this was not a girl who followed anyone's orders.

But Alina wasn't just anyone. So Zoya stood, gathering her own things in a much less haphazard fashion and raising an eyebrow at the younger girl.

"I want to study in my rooms." Emboldened by Zoya's reaction, Alina didn't bother to ask if she wanted to or not. "It's more private that way."

Deciding to see how dare she could push it, she turned on her heel and headed for the doors, not looking behind her. The click of boots behind her pushed a satisfied smile to her face.

"The hour is almost up," Zoya noted, a little too casually, as she carefully edged herself closer and closer to walking alongside her. Alina, who absolutely could not care less where the other girl walked so long as she was going in the same direction, did nothing to stop her.

The hour _was_ almost up. Whatever lessons Genya was doing that she didn't like to talk about, she'd be done with them soon, and free to-

What, exactly? Be awkward around Alina? It was strange and awful feeling, the young girl decided, having a friend that didn't want to be your friend anymore. Everyone else had either been taken from her, or never wanted to be her friend in the first place. This was new, and she hated it.

"Good," she announced, and pretended not to notice Zoya's own satisfied smile.

 

**iii.**

"Bah." Baghra spat into her fire. "You aren't even trying anymore."

"I am _too_." Alina set her hands on her hips and glared. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, but a steady glow continued to fill the room. "You hit me, and I held the light. That's focus."

Her chest rose and fell with the exertion, but it was an exhilarating sort of exhaustion, like she'd just spent a day racing through the halls of the orphanage with Mal. She clung to the light, _her_ light, and refused to let go.

"Your power is not a metaphor." The woman's eyes drilled into her. "It is not a safety net, or a precious toy to keep you safe at night. You aren't _diminishing_ yourself by making it smaller."

But Alina shook her head. A sick feeling curled through her gut, up her throat at the thought of what Baghra wanted her to do. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut against her teacher's irritated expression, but the old woman was scarier in the dark. It was all she could do to refuse her, right now.

"If you think I respect you more because you think you can refuse me, you could not be more wrong." Baghra's voice dripped contempt. "Get out. Don't come back until you're ready to see sense."

 

**iv.**

"Surely you can at least tell me if she's inside?"

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Shouldn't you be at the Grand Palace, anyway?"

" _No!_ "

"Genya?" Alina hurried around the corner to find her friend drawing herself up to her full height and looking like she was about to throw herself at the _oprichniki_ guarding the doors to her room. It was Erik who had been speaking - the woman next to him looked like she was about to reach for a knife.

Genya whirled on her, and for a moment Alina thought she was going to start yelling. Instinctively, she felt her body closing in on itself, like she could will herself smaller. She had half shrunk back behind the corner, before her memory caught up with her.

_Solnyshko_. The word no longer brought to mind her nightmares, but instead that calm, steady gaze, the Darkling's firm belief in her and her power. It took Alina a second, but she forced herself to straighten, tucking her hands neatly behind her back as she approached Genya.

"I thought you didn't want to come here?" She did her best to keep the accusing tone out of her voice, but probably didn't succeed.

"I thought you invited me here because I was your friend." The colour was high in Genya's cheeks, although Alina caught the waver of confusion in her voice and knew the other girl had caught her lapse.

"I did?" _When I thought you were my friend_.

Something that looked suspiciously like hurt flickered across Genya's face, and too late Alina realised it sounded like she didn't remember the invitation.

"Right." The other girl's cheeks flushed deeper, but the her chin came sharply up, and she carefully tugged on her clothes, straightening the white material. "Then I will be going. Have a good day, Alina. Enjoy Zoya's company."

" _That's_ what this is about?" Alina grabbed Genya's arm as she went to brushed past her, and couldn't avoid missing the way the _oprichniki_ nearby both reached for their weapons. Maybe Genya noticed too, or maybe Alina wasn't giving her enough credit; either way, she stilled, and didn't pull away.

"Of course that's what this is about! Everyone thinks she's your favourite now, and they aren't afraid to-"

Despite her bewilderment, sudden worry lanced through Alina. She tightened her grip.

"Afraid to what?" she demanded. "Genya, did something happen?"

"Nothing you would care about."

"Nothing-?" Now Alina could feel the blood rising in her own cheeks. Her free hand balled into a fist. "You know what, you don't get to say things like that to me. Not when you're the one who started behaving strangely. Not when you're the one who started _leaving_."

She meant to sound imperious, but instead, all of her hurt and her fear and her confusion stuffed itself into that single word and then exploded out again. Alina watched it smack right into Genya, the almost physical force of it making the other girl's lips part in surprise.

For a moment, the two young girls just stared at each other. Alina, looking for some kind of explanation, and Genya like she'd just found one.

"I'm sorry," Genya said finally. The strangest part was, she sounded like she meant it. "But he gave you rooms near to his. His _oprichniki_ guard you. That's not just being his favourite, that's - it's something else completely. Something far more important. And I told you you _smelled_."

That didn't make _any_ kind of sense, and Alina was about to mention that when she felt Genya's arm shifting under her grip.

"Please let me go." Impossibly long lashes swept down over cheeks that were pale now, the crimson having fled to wherever Genya's anger had gone.

Alina let go.

 

**v.**

She didn't return to her room, although Erik looked like he might start towards her. There was just something about it that she didn't want to return to, or at least not at that moment.

Instead she left the Little Palace entirely, striding out onto the grounds. A movement nearby had her jerking her head around, wondering to what extent the _oprichniki_ were guarding her exactly.

Wondering how she'd gone from being too unimportant to have real friends, to the complete opposite.

But if there were any _oprichniki_ there, they moved too fast for Alina to be able to spot them. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled out over the grounds, at the perfectly manicured beauty there. They might have been beautiful to look at, but they didn't provide any sort of comfort. Her fellow students would be useless for that, and the Darkling was out at the border again.

Alina considered, briefly, going to see Baghra. The woman wasn't anyone's idea of warm, but there was comfort in consistency. Even just being snapped at for failing, being treated like any other wayward student, would be better than being left alone with her own thoughts right now.

She had already pushed her way past the first few trees when she remembered the last thing Baghra had said to her. _Don't come back until you're ready to see sense_.

Alina wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and squeezed her eyes shut against the frisson of fear that shot through her. She'd been trying to _ignore_ that situation, using the extra time to study with Zoya, implying that she had that time because she was excelling in her lessons, not failing them.

Sooner or later, she was going to have to deal with the Baghra problem. Later, actually. With Genya's lowered gaze haunting her thoughts, there was just no way she was going to be able to face the strange old woman as well.

_Something far more important_.

"Here I was told you were avoiding lessons."

Alina's eyes opened so fast, she nearly lost her footing from the sudden assault of light and colour on her senses. A gentle hand reached out to steady her shoulder, and she found herself staring up at the familiar form of the Darkling.

"You're supposed to be at the border!" she accused, tugging at his sleeve like that would somehow confirm his presence where his hand had not. Except that his hand _had_ , that familiar rush of certainty sweeping through her small form.

"Am I?" He raised one dark eyebrow at her. "I must have forgotten handing control of the Second Army and its movements over to you, _solnyshko_. I apologise."

She flushed, shrugging herself out from under the weight of his hand, even though she didn't really want to. "You letter said not to expect you."

"I didn't want to get your hopes up."

Her mouth opened to deny that she would have, only to shut with a click. There was a lie she couldn't tell. It was stupid, she barely knew anything about the man, but there was a part of Alina that only felt at home in her own skin when she was around the Darkling.

She had a sneaking suspicion that it was because, whatever his long term expectations of her, right _now_ he seemed content to let her do as she willed, when everyone else seemed to want something of her.

The Darkling's mouth curved up at her reaction, and she couldn't help but smile back at him in response. He liked that she had been waiting for him to come back.

"Walk with me," he instructed, nodding his head back towards the Little Palace. "And tell me why it is you have stopped going to your lessons with Baghra."

"She told me to stop coming!" She fell into step with him, although she had to run every second step to keep up.

"Are you sure those were her exact words?"

Alina hesitated. The temptation to say _yes_ and lay all the blame on her teacher was strong, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the Darkling had actually been in the forest to talk to Baghra, and probably knew exactly what was going on. She blew out her cheeks, crossing her arms over her chest.

The Darkling chuckled. "I thought not."

 

**vi.**

It came out in fits and starts, mumbles and hand gestures and the occasional _it's not fair_ as the Darkling led her to her rooms. Erik and the other guard immediately sprang to attention, and both Grisha ignored them as they stepped over the threshold.

"I can't _do_ what she wants," Alina said finally, throwing herself onto her couch. Her small body sank like a stone into its embrace as the Darkling pulled up a chair before her. "Making the light is fine. Holding it there is fine too. Making the light and then making it _smaller_ \- I can't do that. It only wants to grow. It doesn't want to go away."

He leaned in, elbows resting on his knees. Alina hadn't realised there were so many ways to think of the word grey until she met this man and saw his eyes, currently the same shade and sharpness as steel.

But not, she knew, trying to cut her. More like he was slicing away the extra words, the padding she gave her description of the problem so that she could actually talk about it. Her power didn't have a mind of its own, after all. The only mind it has was hers.

"You're concerned about losing your ability."

Alina froze before she could tell her body not to, and then shook her head fiercely. "No. _No_. That'd be stupid. I've been paying attention to my other lessons, and Zoya's been helping me. I know you can't just _lose_ it. People can use the Small Science, or they can't. I can, and that's that."

"It is that," he agreed after a moment. "But you very nearly managed something similar to losing it, in your old life. Klara told me that she almost passed you over."

Alina thought of Mal. Of screaming for him, of him promising he would find her. And she thought of the warm glow of her power, the bright sunlight that fill Baghra's hut and any other place whenever she wanted.

She thought of the Darkling, and his quiet faith in her. _Solnyshko. Ravka's saviour._

"I…didn't want to leave," she admitted softly. "There was someone important to me there. I didn't want to be separated from him, so I pushed the light down. I almost made it disappear."

The steel in that gaze kept carving away. "And now?"

Alina sucked in a shuddering breath, wriggling further into the couch like its softness would somehow protect her. From what, she wasn't sure.

"I know I had to come here. And that it's better this way. And there are lots of parts I like." She looked down at her hands. They had filled in since she had arrived in Os Alta, the fingers no longer so pale and spindly. She thought of Genya again, the sparkle in her golden gaze before she had thought it necessary to lower it. Of Zoya, following her to this very room. Her _oprichniki._ Cake. And The Darkling himself. "But if I focus too hard, if I make my power too small, it might not come back. And all of those things would be gone."

She knew, of course. How could she not? No matter what part of her aura of power people responded to - her summoning, her black clothes, the rooms in the Little Palace - none of it actually had anything to do with Alina herself. A beat passed, two, before she forced herself to meet the Darkling's gaze and hold it. Almost a challenge, like she was daring him to tell her that he would still care for her if she couldn't hold the sun in her palms.

He didn't look away.

Instead, he reached out and took her hands in his. His touch was cool, but not uncomfortably so. More like the touch of gentle fingers checking for a temperature.

"I want you to do it again," he said softly.

Aline stared. "What?"

His own gaze was unrelenting. "I lead the Second Army. Ravka's best interests are my best interests, and your existence is in Ravka's best interests. If you can't trust that I won't hurt you because I care for you, trust in that. And do it again."

It wasn't just his eyes. His voice was magnetic; even if he hadn't been holding her hands, she thought that she still would have felt that rush, that pull towards him.

Alina wanted to believe him. Genya had turned away from her, Zoya never really cared, Baghra was just a terrifying teacher doing her job. She wanted to believe that at least one person in this place cared about her, that she hadn't given up Mal for nothing.

So she forgot all about Ravka, and trusted instead.

Ruthlessly, Alina imagined grasping that indeterminable _thing_ inside of her, and thrusting it down. Stamping on it, until it couldn't rise again. The warmth drained from her fingers first, leeching away like water swirling down a drain. A murmured sound escaped her, something like a mumbled _no_ , but that steel gaze bored into her, urging her onwards. She wasn't even sure what she was _doing_ anymore, only that she had to keep going.

Only that she couldn't let him down.

And then it was over. And Alina felt empty.

"Wh-" Her lips parted on the sound, but she couldn't tell if she wanted to say _what_ , or _why_. _What did I just do? Why did you make me?_

But he hadn't made her do anything. She'd decided all on her own, even if she wasn't entirely sure _why_.

One hand brushed over her forehead, pushing her fringe back as though he really were checking her temperature. There was nothing but kindness in that grey eyed gaze now, so much so that Alina was sure she must have imagined the urging that had been there before, the implacability.

" _Solnyshko_ ," he murmured softly, and a call rang through her.

But nothing responded. The faint edges of panic sunk their teeth into her and began ripping their way inwards, consuming her. _Nothing there?_ Alina's panicked mind repeated the words over and over. _Nothing there. There's nothing there, nothing there, oh saints, what have I_ done?

Something cold pressed against her forearm, and her mind's desperate ramble was broken off by a yelp of pain. "You're making things worse!" Alina yelled, as the call rang through her again, and this time that thing inside _awoke_.

Energy and warmth surged back through her nerves and didn't stop there, yellow, buttery light spilling over her fingertips, dancing across their conjoined hands. The Darkling called a third time, drawing her power out of her like - like something she'd never felt before. She didn't have a proper comparison.

It was still the middle of the day as her power shot across the room. But there was something different about _her_ light - purer, warmer against the chill that still lingered even this far into spring. For once, Alina didn't laugh, or even smile as her light was released into the world. She simply sagged back into the couch and sighed. Relieved.

"No matter what happens, I will always be able to call your power out of you again," the Darkling told her.

Slowly, he released her hands, and the light drew itself back under her skin. But that was where it stayed, suffusing her with new energy, an irrepressible sort of _life._ Alina sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes happily, and then lashed out with one of her feet.

She caught the Darkling in the knee.

"You're a big _jerk!_ " she cried, struggling to rise from the sofa, which had nearly swallowed her hole. "I thought I was broken!"

He was laughing! He really was a jerk. "I'm sorry for that, _solnyshko_. But weren't those few seconds of fear worth what you have learnt?"

The worst part was, she couldn't argue with him about that. It had been disorienting, awful, and she never ever wanted to do it again. But there was no escaping her power. And there was no losing it, either.

A stinging pain and a trickle of wetness drew her attention to her arm, and the line of blood slowly weeping down to her wrist. "You cut me," she accused, instead of admitting that he was right.

"I did. It's superficial, but I can send for a Healer if you wish." At her head shake, he continued. "You didn't trust me quite enough. In your panic, you were suppressing your power even more. I had to distract you."

"...I'm sorry."

He shrugged, spreading his hands. The knife he had used was nowhere to be seen. "I understand that I am still much a stranger to you. Full trust will come in time. But I hope this has helped, just a little."

It seemed like a strange thing to say, given that he'd just cut her arm open, and all. But Alina only hesitated for a moment, before giving him a slow nod.

"Just a little."

 

**interlude.**

The boy cried out.

Around him, other boys stirred from their sleep. A pillow sailed in his direction, missed by a mile. But the boy fell anyway, tangled in his bedsheets. A _thud_ echoed throughout the dormitory, followed by a few snickers.

"What's all this noise?" Ana Kuya stood silhouetted in the doorway, but she already knew the answer. The light of her lantern lifted, casting itself across the face of the boy.

He relaxed visibly, his struggles to free himself slowing, until he could get a hand free to extricate the rest of his body. "Sorry," he mumbled, trying to hide his face.

Ana Kuya tutted, but there was something strangely gentle in the sound, as she gripped the boy's arm and helped him back into the bed. "There is nothing in the dark that will get you, Malyen Oretsev."

The boy stared at the lantern, like he could imprint its light onto his eyeballs, and keep it there forever.

"That's because it already took Alina."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man it's so late. so late. help. but i said i would get this chapter up today and it's...tomorrow, but i'm still awake, so it counts as today. i think this one is my longest one yet, i hope y'all like it c:


	6. Chapter 6

**i.**

If she was expecting a welcome back from Baghra - well. Alina knew better than to expect a welcome from Baghra.

"What are you waiting for? Get inside already!"

Alina grinned, abandoning her position of hovering nervously in the doorway to hurry inside. "You missed me," she declared boldly.

"Why would I miss a ridiculous child who can't even follow basic instructions?"

"Because one day I won't be getting instructions," she pointed out. "I'll be giving them."

"Hrmph."

But she didn't say anything further before launching into the lesson. And Alina was learning that with Baghra, silence might as well have been akin to praise.

 

**ii.**

The new confidence the Darkling's experiment had instilled in her was something to luxuriate in. Alina didn't focus on it too much, but that was because she didn't have to. Assured that her power wouldn't simply disappear on her, she became a brighter child, more willing to engage Marie's chatter and encourage Sergei's arrogance.

There wasn't much time for self reflection in the face of simple happiness.

Zoya hated it, of course, which only made Alina that much happier. She might have respected the older girl, for her knowledge and her power, but she knew she couldn't trust her. And that made her hard to like, even as Alina made sure to keep her in her inner circle of companions.

Ivan was another student she collected into her retinue. Sergei was going to be a Heartrender, but Ivan basically already was. The whole concept unsettled Alina, but she wasn't stupid; the Corporalki were the most powerful of all the Grisha orders. Befriending one was good. Befriending two was better.

Plus. Sergei wouldn't stop talking about how good he was. Alina was sure that was true, but she preferred being around Ivan. The older boy didn't bother to brag. It wasn't exactly modesty - judging by the nervous way people looked at him, it was because he just didn't need to.

It can't have been his dream to spend time with an eight year old, but the fact that he didn't act like it was made Alina inclined to appreciate him. The fake friendliness got really grating after a while.

"Have you started physical training yet?" he asked abruptly one day.

Alina screwed up her face. It wasn't that she was _bad_ at the physical training - a few months at the Little Palace had cured her of whatever sickness had ailed her at Keramzin. But she wasn't good either, and the arrival of other new Grisha children who were also less than impressive didn't help soothe her ego.

Ivan snorted. "Not going well, huh?"

"It could be better."

"I'll train you."

Next to her, Genya stiffened. They hadn't exchanged more than pleasantries since their confrontation - Alina grumpily wanted the other girl to come to her first, and Genya was steadfastly refusing to do so. Still, Alina could remember more than one implication that her presence was somehow protecting Genya, and so had continued to at least eat meals with her.

"Um." Alina felt heat infusing her cheeks, even as she tries to ignore the other girl. Zoya was one thing, but Ivan was a _boy_ , and nearly twice her age besides. "Is that allowed?"

"Don't see why not. You don't have to, but I'm the best in my class, and anyone older is too busy with their own studies. Corporalki know bodies better than anyone."

There wasn't a lot she could say in the face of that. Alina reached for the sugar bowl, turning the milk in her porridge into syrup. "Okay. I mean, I guess it can't hurt."

"Excuse me," Genya murmured, standing with her usual poise. Alina thought she'd gotten used to the situation between them, but that didn't stop her shoulders from slumping as she watched the other girl go.

"Why do you care so much?"

She blinked. Ivan was looking at her, quizzical and unconcerned.

"About Safin," he clarified. "She's not even Grisha, not really."

"She - what?" Alina twisted her head again, just in time to see Genya slip out of the dining hall. "Yes, she is. What do you mean? She's here, isn't she?"

"Yeah, but-" He shrugged. "Grisha don't wear white. It's a servant's colour. Whatever she is, she's not going to be one of us."

Alina scowled up at him. He might have been fourteen and a boy, but she was still the Darkling's favourite, and maybe Genya was being _weird_ , but she was still Alina's friend. At least, she hoped so. "So we should just ignore people who aren't like us?"

"What?" His voice cracked a little, and he scowled as well, although he was careful not to direct it at her. "I didn't say that. Other people would, though."

He wasn't wrong. And Alina had never made the connection between white and servants colours before - all the people who attended her wore charcoal. But she had seen them, she remembered now. White and gold, usually from the Grand Palace. She didn't _know_ if that had any kind of connection to Genya, but that didn't matter. Other people obviously thought it did,

Alina tried to think about what it would be like, to be thought of as a servant, and then suddenly find out that the odd, homesick girl you had befriended was - well. The type of person who got rooms near the Darkling and was guarded by his personal _oprichniki._

_Something far more important_.

She stood, abandoning Ivan and her half eaten breakfast without a further word.

 

**iii.**

"Genya, wait!"

The older girl was headed towards the Little Palace. Alina watch her pace pick up for half a second, before she probably realised that that could be a bad idea.

It wasn't. Alina wasn't about to run to the Darkling and tell him that her friend was ignoring her (he'd probably just tell her she was above that, anyway. Ravka's saviour didn't need friends). But Genya didn't really know that.

Still, Alina also wasn't going to complain about something that allowed her to catch up to Genya. There was no way she would have been able to make it, otherwise - Genya had two years on her in the physical training department, as well as age.

"I have classes," the other girl protested lightly.

"Not for another hour. I remembered." Alina took a second or two to catch her breath. "Genya, are you scared of me?"

Genya stilled, and the look on her face said that she very much wanted to lie. That the lie would be _no._ Finally, she sighed, shrugging her shoulders helplessly. "Not of you personally."

"Is it because I'm the Darkling's favourite? Because - because you knew that the morning after we met! I basically shout it everywhere I go." She tugged at her _kefta_. "Anyway, he's not that bad. Intimidating, but he really just wants-"

"He's the second most powerful man in the country, Alina." Genya sounded tired. "He's amazing. Awe-inspiring. And he doesn't have friends."

"Yes, but I'm not him. And I _want_ to be friends with you. You're funny, and kind, and until a couple of weeks ago you didn't treat me like I could make or ruin your life with a snap of my fingers." She looked down at her feet, scuffing her boot in the dirt. The cloth of her _kefta_ abruptly felt too heavy, dragging her down. "It's…hard, Genya. No one really wants to be my friend. They just want to be in my good graces."

"Alina…" The sadness in Genya's voice was an ache, and it hit Alina right in the gut. "You _are_ like him. Not in personality, not at all, but in power? No one else has ever - _ever_ \- been given the privileges you have. And in Os Alta, it's power that matters. The reason people look at you like you can change their lives is because you can."

"Then why not be my friend?" Alina exploded. "If that's what I'm destined to be, why not try to stay close to me?"

It was Genya's turn to duck her head, elegant hands knotting gently behind her back. It took her a long time to respond again, like she had to pick each word carefully.

"Being close to people in power, being in their favour…it doesn't always mean good things happen to you. I don't want to be the best friend of the Darkling's favourite. It's too much pressure."

Alina blinked, and was horrified to find her lashes wet with tears. She didn't want to cry, didn't want to seem like some stupid child.

"Then why get mad about Zoya? And Ivan? If you don't want to be my friend, why be upset about me making new ones?"

"They aren't your friends," she snapped, and for a moment it felt like it had before. When Genya had let herself care about Alina. "And its because I don't want to be the best friend of the Darkling's favourite, but I still want to be Alina's, all right? You're nice, even if you get grumpy when you're hungry or tired, and have no idea how to do your hair. And you don't treat me like a - like-"

"A servant?"

Genya's pale cheeks flamed red, but she nodded. "You can say you won't treat me like that in the future, or that you won't expect favours for your kindness, but it's just as possible that you'll change your mind. You've already started changing, just a little bit. Testing how far your influence goes, I've _seen_ you."

"I'm an orphan," Alina blurted.

Genya blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I'm - I'm an orphan," she repeated, slower this time, feeling her own cheeks flush with something that felt too much like shame. "I don't have parents. They died, and I was taken to Keramzin. The Duke who owned the manor made it into an orphanage. They gave me food, and a roof, and his birthday, and they made sure I knew exactly who I owed it to."

"Alina…"

"So I know, okay? I know what it's like to feel that way. And I wouldn't ever do it to anyone else. _Ever_."

She was only eight years old, her body small and slight, her voice half breath at the best of times. But she injected as much force into the words as she could, holding Genya's gaze, _willing_ her to believe.

A few months ago, she wouldn't have done it. She would have let Genya go, retreated into herself - and Mal. She'd always had Mal to return to, before. Soon enough, it had gotten to the point when she hadn't tried to make any kind of connection outside of him.

But that had been in Keramzin. In the Little Palace, she needed more. She might have been young, but she'd have to be an idiot not to see that. And if she had to collect people like Zoya and Ivan, Sergei and Marie, she wanted to have people like Genya, too. People who actually cared about her, and not what she could do for them.

So she wasn't about to just let Genya go.

It must have shown in her expression, the way she held her body, the tone of her voice. All three at once, maybe. A flicker of anxiety raced across the older girl's face, maybe even anguish - but it passed soon enough, leaving Genya to shake her head with a weary sigh.

"You're like a dog with a bone, you know that?"

"Maybe. But you're not a bone, Genya. You're my friend. I _want_ you to be my friend."

"I want to be your friend too, Alina." Her voice was soft. "Do you promise that you won't say I owe you things? That you won't decide I have to prove how good of a friend I am to you?"

"I swear." Alina's reply was immediate, and intent. Seconds ticked by, Genya's perfect face unreadable.

And then she reached out, a gentle hand pushing Alina's fringe back. "Thank goodness. If I had to look at this mess for another week, I was going to attack you with a pair of scissors in the middle of the night. Come. There's still time before my first class, let me give you some style."

Alina wanted to wrinkle her nose at that, but there was already a grin in the way. Saying nothing, she acquiesced, following Genya back towards the student dormitories.

 

**iv.**

Alina had thought she understood light. It was brightness, a golden glow cupped in the palms of her hands (or wherever else she wanted it - Baghra was teaching her to create multiple spots of concentrated light). It was morning, warmth, an end to nightmares.

As spring melted away to a mild, gentle summer, Alina learnt something else. Light was a lack of weight. It was the ability to run across the grounds of the Little Palace and not get winded. It was finally showing Genya her rooms, teasing the _oprichniki_ with her, having her hair cut in a way the older girl deemed satisfactory. It was watching her test scores go up, _feeling_ herself getting smarter, stronger, developing an eagerness for knowledge and abilities she never would have dreamed could be in her reach.

It was packages of dolls and sweets, ornaments and books, little trinkets that made their way to her rooms from military camps all over Ravka. Good weather meant more fighting, which meant that the Darkling was away from Os Alta more and more. _That_ part wasn't light, but the fact that he remembered her was, the way each gift was picked out for her personally.

She still added bits and pieces to her drawer for Mal, but her expectations of actually ever seeing him again began to dwindle. There was light in that, too, although she couldn't deny that the thought made her ache when she least expected it. But Mal had been her saviour in her old life, someone she had needed desperately then.

The Alina of now didn't need a saviour. She definitely wasn't ready to _be_ one, but there were no big kids pushing her down in the halls anymore. She was the big kid, at least metaphorically.

Not that she was pushing anyone down. Why would she need to? She was light.

 

**v.**

She was heading back to her rooms from Baghra's hut when some of that lightness left her. The summer heat had an edge to it as it pierced mercilessly through the canopy of leaves overhead, and Alina was busy scowling up at it.

What was the point in being a Sun Summoner, if you couldn't summon the sun _away_ from you? There was such a thing as too much of a good thing, she huffed internally.

Caught up as she was in a battle of wills with the unfeeling ball of gas hovering in the sky above, she missed the choked sobbing at first. But she couldn't exactly make her way along the path with her eyes fixed on the heavens, and the rest of the world seemed to flood her senses once more when she finally pulled her gaze away. Birds chirped, the wind whistled through the trees, and someone was making quiet, strangled sounds that were all too familiar to Alina.

An orphan could easily recognise the sound of someone trying to hide their tears.

For a moment, she considered just walking on. Not out of any callousness, but because if someone had planted themselves near Baghra's hut and was _still_ trying to stifle their tears, they definitely weren't looking to be interrupted. On the other hand, if Alina didn't interrupt them, Baghra might. She wasn't entirely sure if Baghra ever actually left her hut, but now would be a pretty awful time for it to turn out she did.

Mind made up, Alina followed the crying into the trees. It wasn't until she nearly bumped into the other student that she realised who it was, and even then, it didn't make much sense.

" _Ivan?"_

The boy's reaction was instant; he shot to his feet, hands smearing over his face like that would somehow hide the evidence of his tears. The scowl he summoned was lacking in anything resembling fierceness, and that was from _Ivan_. Fierce scowls were his speciality!

"Alina?" His voice cracked on the second syllable, and the failed scowl slipped further into bewilderment. An ugly flush started to creep up his neck, clashing with the red of his _kefta_. "Everything's fine."

"I - I didn't ask," she stuttered, at a complete loss of what to say or do. How did one deal with crying boys? Mal had teared up occasionally, but all Alina had ever really had to do for him was be there. They took comfort in each other's presence.

Ivan was not really a taking comfort sort of boy.

"Oh." For a second, he really did seem fine. Other than the puffy eyes and tear tracks, that was. And then his face crumpled, back thumping against a tree trunk. Alina watched in horror as his hands came up, knuckling his eyes. Hands that had been teaching her how to defend herself, how to hurt other people, hands that now clutched at Ivan's face like he could somehow make the tears go back inside.

"I'm sorry!" Alina's own hands flapped, helpless. "Did you want me to ask? Because I can ask. Is everything okay, Ivan?"

A choked, wet laugh came from the boy. He turned his face into his shoulder, trying to wipe away the evidence again. He looked like he really needed to blow his nose, but Alina wasn't about to point that out.

"I got a letter from the First Army today," he informed his shoulder, voice thick with an unspecified emotion.

Alina felt her heart sink anyway. That emotion didn't need to be specified. There wasn't, after all, a whole lot of reasons for a Grisha-in-training to be getting letters from the First Army.

Ivan kept talking to his shoulder. "It was a Shu Han raiding party. Father - my father's stationed at the border." Another sob wracked his body, silent this time. "He was. They were caught unprepared."

A sharp, sudden pain clawed its way up Alina's throat. It was so abruptly overwhelming, it took her a moment or two to recognise it as empathy.

Not that the towns on the northern border were ever unprepared. But Alina had been. And judging by the way trembles passed through Ivan's body at irregular moments, he had been unprepared, too.

As though you could ever prepare for something like that.

Without really thinking about it, Alina shifted forward. One of Ivan's hands had fallen to his side; she stretched out her own, and gently curled her fingers into it, knotting them with his. His head jerked towards her, mouth open and ready to shoot down whatever he thought she was going to say.

But she didn't say anything. There wasn't, she thought, anything that _could_ be said. If there was, it wasn't anything that she'd be good at saying. Ivan seemed to understand that, or at least, his mouth slammed shut with a click of teeth, and he didn't let go of her hand. If anything, he clenched it tighter, as the tension slowly seeped out of his body, and he sank to the forest floor.

Still silent, Alina let herself drop to the ground next to him. Fresh tears spilled over his eyelids, coursing their way through furrows already gouged there by earlier grief, seeking the path of least resistance. He was quiet now, his breath coming in short, shuddering gasps, but coming nonetheless. He held nothing back, now.

Alina stayed with him, until fingers of night began to grasp at the sky, and the summer heat leached out of the air. And when that happened, she showed her power to the first person since the Darkling had taken her to Baghra.

It was harder at night. She had to bend all of her focus on making sure it happened just right, carefully extricating her hand from Ivan's. He stirred, looking at her in confusion. The faint edge of embarrassment started to crowd in on his expression, but then a soft glow was spilling out into the evening, casting light and warmth over the two of them. Despite herself, despite the terrible situation, Alina felt a tired smile lifting her lips.

"Wh-?" Ivan was staring at her like he'd seen a ghost. Except that might have been a small thread of wonder there, behind the tangled knot of every other emotion strangling him at that point. So not a ghost. Something more miraculous.

"This is why the Darkling singled me out," she told him. "I'm sorry I wasn't ready in time to help save your father, Ivan. But I promise - I _swear_ \- that in his memory, I'm going to make sure it won't happen to anyone else."

In the hazy glow of her light, Ivan regained his ferocity. Not with a scowl, but with a sharp, humourless smile.

 

**vi.**

It all came out to Genya the next day of course, although Alina did her best to keep the more personal details out of it, for Ivan's sake. Mostly, she wanted to make sure that she was the one to tell her friend, before any kind of rumours started to fly around.

None did, though. Either Ivan was too tired or grief-stricken to be gossiping, or he had recognised that Alina wanted to tell others about what she could do in her own time.

Either way, Genya watched with gob-smacked surprise as Alina made the light dance for her, bending all of her energy into making it as pretty as possible, even with the constraints of full daylight hindering the visibility.

"No _wonder_ you're his favourite," she said wonderingly. "It's the Shadowfold, isn't it? He wants you to help him destroy it."

" _I_ want to help him destroy it," Alina corrected. "I wanted to keep it to myself, what I can do, because I wasn't sure that I could. I didn't want people looking at me with even more pressure, you know? But seeing Ivan yesterday, I don't think I really have a choice. I _have_ to help Ravka. Otherwise things like this are going to keep happening."

Genya's eyebrows twitched together slightly. She didn't look awed anymore, or even that impressed by Alina's speech, like Alina had kind of hoped she would be. No, instead, she looked concerned.

"Does the Darkling know you feel that way? That you want to show people?"

The Darkling, from his last missive to Alina, was on his way back from his visit to Kribirsk. Some few days away, but close enough that sending another letter would be pointless. Alina shook her head. "Not really. But he said it was up to me. My choice."

"What people say and what they mean aren't always the same thing." Genya sounded wise beyond her years. "Especially with the Darkling. I think you should wait."

"I don't need to ask permission to use my own powers," Alina said grumpily, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Don't make that face, you look ridiculous," Genya instructed. "And I'm not saying you have to ask him. Just...inform him. If nothing else, he certainly knows how to put on a show. Maybe he can give you some advice on what to do."

Alina got the distinct impression that she was being Handled. Still, she couldn't deny the sense in what Genya was saying. Alina could still remember that stranger staring out at her from behind the Darkling's grey gaze.

She had no wish to make him reappear.


	7. Chapter 7

**i.**

The king was angry.

It was nothing conveyed to Alina directly, but she was almost nine now, and not stupid. Months in the Little Palace had taught her how to read situations, and the whispers of servants, the way some of her fellow students drew back from her (even after her revelation), said that the king was angry.

Some part of Alina was probably supposed to care. She knew that she would have, once upon a time. But the awed faces of her fellow students when she had sent ribbons of light dancing out across the lake, they ate away any concerns that might have settled in her stomach.

Well. That, and the Darkling's reassurances that everything would be fine. She had double checked, when she told him about what she wanted to do, that it was okay to let people know about her power. He had repeated the same thing he had said the last time they'd spoken - that her power was hers to with what she wanted.

A strange expression had stolen over his features, too. Something that was so alien in Alina's experience, and so alien on his face especially, that it hadn't been until later that evening that she'd realised what it was.

He was touched. Touched, that she'd thought to double check with him, and to ask his opinion on how he thought she should do it. Alina had smiled to herself that night, and then carried out his suggestions to the very letter the next evening. Genya, too, had received an uncharacteristic hug from her, in thanks for her advice.

Some of the actual Grisha would practice - or show off - their abilities every evening. The students were allowed to watch, and that afternoon Alina had casually suggested to her retinue that they should take advantage of that. A couple of people - Zoya especially - had given her a suspicious look, probably because Alina didn't make suggestions that encouraged people spending even _more_ time with her very often.

But Alina had brushed that off with ease. It would be obvious enough that she had planned the whole thing once she got started, after all.

It hadn't mattered. Choosing a lull between Grisha displays, Alina had stood on the edge of the lake and drawn on all of the residual heat and light remaining in the air, just before the sun slipped away. It had been a small thing at first, barely noticeable, fed by her nervousness as much as her power. But a dark figure on the edge of the forest had caught her eye, and determination to succeed ate up that tremulous thing.

She wouldn't fail in front of the Darkling.

And she hadn't. The warmth had suffused her skin, her flesh, all the way down into her bones before she had let it ricochet out across the water. The gasps had been deafening, the silence that followed even more so, and once she was done, not even the Grisha had dared to try and follow up her display.

"You are a _Sun Summoner?_ " It was Zoya who broke the silence. Of course it was. Alina had opened her mouth, but it was Genya who responded, her voice smooth as silk .

"Didn't you know?" There was no hiding her smugness, and Alina had coughed into her hand to hide a laugh as Zoya's beautiful face flushed bright red. Not with embarrassment, of course, but anger.

Alina was going to have to smooth that over, later. But it was worth it, allowing Genya to have a small moment of her own.

So. The kind was mad? Let him be. After all, what could he do to her? She was the Sun Summoner, and Ravka needed her.

 

**ii.**

"He wants to meet you."

The Darkling's calm expression gave nothing away, but that was soothing in and of itself. He wasn't a statue, after all - he could be worried, or frustrated, just like any other man. Alina felt that she was starting to get a handle on the shifting of his features, figuring out what meant want.

So. Calm didn't necessarily mean good, but it didn't have to mean bad, either. Alina followed his cue, swinging her legs back and forth a little idly as she perched on a chair in her receiving room. He was perpendicular to her, absently stirring some more sugar into the hot chocolate she had asked for when he had shown up.

"All right," Alina said simply, hissing a little as she sipped her own drink too fast, and burnt her tongue. Spotting the corner of the Darkling's mouth quirk up, she sunk in her chair so she could reach his shin with her foot. It was less of a kick and more of a nudge, though, and it took her another undignified moment or three to wriggle her way back up into a proper sitting position.

He didn't say anything, but he held her gaze long enough to let her know that he didn't _have_ to say anything. He was laughing at her internally, she just knew it. Scowling down at her hot chocolate, she blew on it, waiting for him to respond.

"You aren't frightened?"

That startled the scowl right out of her. She blinked up at him. "No? You said you would protect me."

There was a pause, and this time he did laugh, the warm sound drifting over her gently. "You don't need protecting from the king, Alina. He needs you too badly." He paused, and something flickered behind those grey eyes, a sudden coldness. Not directed at her, though. Alina had the feeling that the Darkling did his best to hide that side of himself from her. "But he might forget, in the future. If he does, I will remind him."

She smiled at him, and this time when she slid down in her seat, it was to nudge him gently with her toe. "Thanks."

Again, the way the Darkling spoke seemed to imply that she should at least be nervous. Or maybe awed, at his declaration.

Mostly, Alina felt happy, in a way she'd only touched upon with Mal in Keramzin. There, she'd only had him. Here in the Little Palace, she was surrounded by people, some of whom were willing to face down the king for her, if necessary.

The Darkling regarded her, face still unreadable. His knee had jerked back, though, returning her nudge. "I am glad I found you, _solnyshko._ "

Alina felt herself flushing bright red, but her smile didn't drop away. She ducked her head. "Me too."

There was silence for a moment, before Alina decided to take a chance and ask something that had been niggling at her ever since she had realised how mad the king was.

"Why didn't you tell him?"

He paused so long that Alina was about to clarify, when he finally responded.

"He didn't ask."

There was a strange, glittering look in those gray eyes. Alina decided to follow the king's example, and not press the matter further..

 

**iii.**

There was a party the day of her birthday, but it wasn't for her. The duke of Keramzin was in Os Alta as some of the troops rolled back along with autumn, and the king insisted on celebrating.

The Darkling didn't say it, but Alina could tell that something about the situation irritated him. After carefully pestering her _oprichniki_ for a few days, she gathered that he required the king's attention for some military matter.

The king was ignoring him.

She thought about that, about what the Darkling had said back in the late summer. _He didn't ask_. It probably wasn't her place to question _either_ men, but the whole thing seemed just a little bit…petty. It didn't make her think any less about the Darkling, though. Having met the king, she thought if she had to deal with him to the extent that her mentor did, she'd probably get petty as well. The meeting had been so very unimpressive, she barely recalled the details, except for his chin.

In the end, he left the capitol before the party, and Alina pretended like she wasn't disappointed. He was the only person who had reason to know when she celebrated her birthday, after all. She wasn't about to let anyone else know, and risk them putting two and two together. Whether or not it was common knowledge that the duke gave the orphans in his house his birthday, Alina wasn't sure, and didn't want to find out.

She was creating a new identity for herself, slowly uncovering it and carving it out. _Orphan_ wasn't a part of that.

Still. She asked for cake when she got back from classes, and whispered a soft _happy birthday_ to Mal as she ate it. It was only when she was done that she noticed the package.

She was just picking at the strings when one of her _oprichniki_ knocked on the door.

"Genya Safin to see you, miss."

"Let her in!"

The paper fell away, revealing gold embroidered black, and if Alina didn't know what the package was yet, she at least knew who it was from. Carefully, she unfolded the fabric, appreciation overriding eagerness. It was silk; the pure _decadence_ of using that for wrapping a present had Alina taking her time, savouring the moment.

" _Saints_." Genya's melodic voice caught in her throat as the door pushed shut behind her. "This had better be a special occasion, because if he gives you things like that for fun, I'm going to tear out your hair in a jealous rage."

Alina looked up, startled. Her friend sounded surprisingly sincere.

"It's my birthday," she said without thinking, letting the golden chain of a necklace slip over her fingers. Not that there was any harm in telling Genya - her friend already knew, after all. "Or at least, it's the one they gave me."

"Really?" Genya's lips parted. For a moment, it seemed she was at a loss for words, although whether that was because of what Alina had said, or because of the necklace in her hands, it was hard to say. "...Happy Birthday, Alina."

She smiled, not taking her eyes off her gift. "Thanks."

Holding up her hand, she let the pendant drop into a stray sunbeam between them. A low cry of delight broke past her lips as the colour shifted to a brilliant, blue-green, sending light bouncing around the room in a thousand broken shards. Pulling it out of the sun, the colour dulled slightly, although it was still beautiful. There seemed to be other shades within its facets, twisting the stone into a living thing as she turned it this way and that.

"May I see?" There was a note like longing in Genya's voice, and for a second, Alina wanted to refuse, wanted to tuck the necklace away for her eyes only.

But that would defeat the purpose of jewellery, which was, after all, to be worn. Besides, Genya was her friend. It didn't hurt anything to let her look, so after a faintly awkward beat, Alina held out her hand, letting the necklace pool into Genya's palm.

"Alexandrite," the older girl declared, holding it in the sun again. "High quality, too. It's probably worth more than everything in this room put together. Maybe your bedroom as well. The cut is called a cushion cut." She eyed Alina for a moment. "Summon at it, as bright as you can."

Alina's eyebrows had crawled up her forehead, but she bit back her question at the chance to show off. It took barely a twitch of her fingers to summon a beam of concentrated light, the thing she'd had so much trouble with only scant months ago, and the gemstone stole another gasp from her as the light hit it, and the colour shifted again, this time to a deep, purplish-red.

"The _very_ highest quality," Genya emphasised quietly. She tried to hide it, but there was a wistful moment of hesitation before she passed the necklace back to Alina. "It's a Ravkan jewel, you know. It was named after a king, years and years ago."

"Of course I knew." Alina rolled her eyes. "I was just reading about it in between studying, and getting beaten up by Botkin, and given worse by Baghra. Since when did you know so much about gemstones?"

She didn't _mean_ to hit a nerve - how could something like that hit a nerve? But something like caution flickered over Genya's beautiful face, turning it dark.

And then she sighed. "Oh, everyone already has some sort of idea of what I can do anyway. It's only you, who refuses to gossip, that doesn't have some idea. Knowing gemstones is a part of what I study. Not that I'd ever have reason to use Alexandrite, I don't think, but I still need to know what it is."

That made close to no sense at all, and Alina was pretty sure it showed. "What?"

Genya's expression set, turning determined. "Come here," she demanded. "I'm going to give you a birthday present, although it won't be anywhere near as impressive as it should be, seeing as you were so _rude_ as to not give me warning."

"I didn't want people to…" Alina trailed off, trusting her friend to understand, even as she did as instructed. She was both a fan of presents, and of finding things out. Genya's powers had niggled at her for almost as long as she had known the other girl.

" _I_ don't count."

"I guess that's true."

A smile broke briefly past the other girl's mouth, before an intense focus wiped it away. She took Alina's face in her hands, staring at her for so long, Alina began to shift uncomfortably. She might have gotten used to being looked at, but not like _that._

Her face felt strange. She'd had occasion to be healed once or twice since her arrival at the Little Palace, and it felt a little like that. Prickly, but not uncomfortable. It occurred to Alina that the Darkling would probably disapprove of her letting another Grisha, even a friend, near her face with unknown powers, but this was Genya. Like she'd said, she didn't count.

"There," her friend murmured, after a long moment had past. "Where's a mirror? You need to see this for yourself."

"A...mirror?" But a few stray thoughts were starting to coalesce in her mind, distant lessons dragging themselves to the forefront. She held onto them as she went into her room, where a full length mirror stood in the corner.

It only took a look to understand. In the time Alina had been in the Little Palace, she had shucked off her sickly, Keramzin appearance like a second skin. But that didn't mean she didn't still bear remnants, dark circles all too likely to return unless she got the exact right amount of sleep, her hair occasionally lank, skintone slightly uneven unless she had just come from practice in Baghra's hut. Her eyes weren't as rich a brown as they could have been, and while she'd put on weight, _bony_ was still a word that could be applied to her, all awkward angles.

Seeing herself in the mirror in that moment, most of that fell away. Obviously Genya hadn't changed her bone structure, but she looked as though she had just spend the whole day summoning, yet had somehow remained fully rested while she did it.

"You're still pale," Genya said apologetically from behind her. "I could give your cheeks more a glow, if I had my kit with me. And it doesn't last that long yet, just half a day or so. I _will_ get stronger."

"You're a Tailor," Alina breathed, ignoring her friend's rambles, whirling around to face her. Pride and defiance mingled in Genya's face, with something that Alina couldn't quite place.

" _Obviously_."

"But that doesn't make sense at all! You'd still be able to wear red, wouldn't you? Or - or at least purple."

Alina wasn't sure which order being a Tailor applied to, but it had to be one of them, didn't it? You didn't just stuff a Grisha in servants colours for having unusual abilities, that was for certain.

A high flush had risen in Genya's face, and Alina could see her struggling not to look away. "It's complicated."

"Explain it to me!"

But a waterfall of red hair tumbled over Genya's shoulders as the other girl shook her head. "One day. I can promise you that." One of her bright, kind smiles perked her whole face up then, so bright as to be obviously forced. "Come here again! You're clenching that necklace in your fist like you're afraid you're going to lose it between here and the door. You know the chain is for securing it in place, don't you?"

_Genya Safin_ , Alina sighed internally, mind still racing (and going nowhere). _Queen of the subject change._

But, once again, she did as she was told, letting the older girl secure the clasp of her new necklace. The pendant thumped into the hollow of her throat, a greenish colour for the time being.

Alina glanced in the mirror again, trying not to look like she was admiring herself. She looked older, wearing that same mature before their time expression that some of the other students had.

"I'm going to change my birthday."

Genya sounded amused. "Is the Sun Summoner going to have a birthday every day, then?

"Don't be stupid!" Alina's fingers toyed with her new necklace. "Midsummer, though. The longest day of the year."

"You'll be ten before you ought to be."

"I'm already nine before or after I should be. Probably after. Ana Kuya just picked eight because I was so scrawny."

Genya laughed, the sound as beautiful as she was. "Whatever you say, Alina."

 

**iv.**

"Baghra, what is your power?"

Alina was glowing. Not literally for once, but that was a recent change. The woman had been pushing her harder lately, like she was searching for the edges of her power. It was mid evening, and after lighting up the entire dusky lake before them, Alina felt like they were starting to get there.

She felt exuberant. Baghra didn't seem to agree, but Baghra probably didn't even know what exuberant meant.

"None of your business," the woman bit out. "Do it again, and make it wider."

Alina stared. "I can do it again,"she said finally. "But it's not getting wider. And of course it's my business! You don't see Durasts training Tidemakers, do you?"

"Oh, so the Sun Summoner thinks she knows better than her teacher now, does she?"

Alina flushed, but lifted her chin defiantly. "I'll ask the Darkling."

Baghra cackled. "Girl, if you think you're going to get an honest out of that boy, you're dumber than I gave you credit for."

"You don't give me any credit!"

Baghra said nothing, and Alina suddenly had cause to doubt her own words. The comment about the Darkling didn't bother her - the two didn't get on, as far as she could tell - but the idea that Baghra somehow credited her with _anything_ abruptly blossomed in her mind.

She found that she liked it.

"I'll find out," she announced, returning her attention to the lake. Her arms _ached_ , but she lifted them anyway, drawing on the last dying rays of the sun.

"Then the day you find out is the day you deserve to know," Baghra groused.

Alina thought she might stop frowning, when she finally managed to follow the older woman's instructions. But as she let her arms drop, panting and flushed and ready to drop along with them, Baghra's frown only deepened.

 

**v.**

Alina suspected that finding Ivan this time wasn't really an accident. It wasn't like he presented his tear stained face to her, but their paths seldom crossed outside of training. He was fifteen now, and had maybe a year or so of training before he would be promoted to full Grisha, so while it was known that the Sun Summoner considered him a part of her core group, he was usually too busy to actually make that apparent.

He was also, Alina learned, mourning the death of an uncle. The one that had taken over looking after his family, upon the death of his father. Another raid, another victim of war.

"The _king's_ wars," Ivan said, more than a hint of bitterness to his tone, and Alina slapped a small hand over his mouth. She wouldn't have been able to reach, if not for the fact that they were both sitting down, backs against a shelf of musty old cooking texts. She'd found him in the library.

She might have been unimpressed with the king herself, but she didn't express that out loud around anyone except the Darkling. Even she knew that much. Grief, apparently, made people stupid.

"It's war," she reminded him, and there was a harshness to her voice that she didn't recognise. "It doesn't matter who it belongs to, that's what happens."

"What do you know?" he snapped back, as she drew her hand away. His tears, less dramatic and all consuming this time, had long since ceased. "You're the Sun Summoner. The Darkling's favourite. They probably have your family in Novokribirsk or something. Somewhere safe and prosperous."

The idea was so ludicrous that for a moment, Alina could only stare. Maybe Novokribirsk itself was safe, but you still had to travel through the Unsea to get to it. For a second she thought about snapping back, about telling him just how wrong he was in precise detail, but something reigned her in. Whether it was the old Alina's reticence, or the new Alina's knowledge that her past would only make her seem weak, she bit her tongue.

"You don't really know anything about me," she managed after a moment. There was no hiding her irritation, even if she'd managed to curb her words. "And I'm trying to make sure you don't say anything stupid while you're upset, so don't be an ass."

His lips parted for a moment, and Alina thought she was going to have to explain the issue to him. But he shut it again, gave her a sharp, unhappy nod. "You're right." A pause. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

They sat in silence as the afternoon bled into evening, into night. Alina felt her eyelids dipping lower and lower. She didn't have an official bedtime or anything, but whatever the time was, it was later than she usually stayed up.

"You should go," Ivan said finally, as her small body started to list sideways. "It's late."

"Go where?" Alina mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. She started pushing herself to her feet, but her body felt heavy, tired. Distantly, she thought she heard a sigh as a big hand wrapped around her upper arm. It tugged, pulling her to her feet with surprising care.

A throat clearing. "We will take her."

The voice sounded familiar, so the words didn't bother her too much. She let her head rest against the nearest person, which was still probably Ivan, eyes slipping shut again as he swore.

"How long have you been there?" His voice sounded harsh.

"We are her guards. Assume we are always there."

It was Erik, Alina decided, and tuned out the rest of the conversation. The world dipped and whirled a bit, and she was dimly aware that her feet had left the ground, a strong pair of arms holding her up.

Sleep came fast after that. She didn't remember returning to her rooms.

 

**vi.**

It was winter before the Darkling returned, activity on the borders settling down enough that his presence wasn't required to keep things contained. No one was stupid enough to invade Ravka in winter.

The season was dark, but the one snowball she managed to nail the Darkling with cemented it as Alina's favourite. Not just because the look on his face had been nothing short of comical, but because he was _there_ , for longer than a week or two at a time. She visited in the evenings, chattering away at him, hanging onto the words he chose to impart to her.

There was a lot of history. Grisha history, in particular. He elaborated on her lessons, gave her tidbits and personal observations that her teachers hadn't even hinted at. She could have shared them with her fellow students, of course, but instead she hoarded the nuggets of information, keeping them for herself. They didn't affect their schoolwork, after all, and like the necklace that sat in the hollow of her throat, this was something belonging to Alina alone.

"How old are you?" she asked him one such evening. He had been in the middle of saying something about the old king, and the implication in his words had been that he'd known the man. Alina knew that Grisha lived for a long time, but the Darkling didn't look that much more than a decade older than her.

He looked over at her, eyes unreadable. "Does it matter to you, _solnyshko_?"

Did it? Alina thought about that. It wasn't really about it _mattering_ so much as that she was curious. There was a quiet thought in the back of her mind that wondered how similar light and shadows were when it came to the question of lifespan. If she had only ticked away some infinitesimal part of her allotted time so far.

"You must be _really_ old," she said finally, grinning up at him.

It won her a chuckle, and he inclined his head. "One hundred and...something. Less than twenty, more than ten. Does that satisfy you?"

It took her breath away more than anything else, but she nodded, eyes wide, casting about for something to say. "...I think Genya would kill to have skin like yours when she's one hundred and something."

He laughed again, asked a few idle questions about her friendship with Genya before returning to his initial subject, and so the evening went on.

There was a fete, but the students were only allowed to participate in the very basic aspects of it. And so winter melted away, and the Darkling went with it. No one else in Ivan's family died. Genya took to practicing her Tailoring on Alina (it had taken some convincing on Alina's part, but they both ended up pleased with the results). Zoya remained the top of all her classes, but begged off tutoring Alina any longer once she started climbing the ranks in her own.

"I don't have the time," the older girl informed her. "Botkin asks me to assist with the younger students, and I have to focus on my own studies. I can only _hope_ you'll understand."

The word hope looked like it tasted sour in Zoya's mouth, and Alina was more than a little bit tempted to dash it. But while she may have been the Sun Summoner, Zoya was growing into...something else. Someone that people listened to, even if they didn't like. Alina was uncomfortably aware of the fact that people listened to her because they felt like they didn't have a choice. With Zoya, they did. They just chose not to exercise it, at least not until her back was turned.

"If you can't handle the load, of course I understand," Alina replied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Genya's lips twitch up. Zoya's expression darkened, clearly caught in her own trap and unable to find a way to extricate herself.

"She's worried about you surpassing her," Genya said later, experimenting with the effects of amethyst in Alina's hair. "If you were just a mediocre student, she could reassure herself of her superiority, no matter what colours you wore. But now you're getting better at everything, she's getting worried."

"Ugh. She's welcome to them. I'm _so tired_ of black, Genya." Alina reached for her mirror, and had her hand likely smacked away.

"I'm not done yet," Genya said mildly. The white of her sleeve caught Alina's eye, and she bit her lip.

"Sorry."

"Shh. It's hard to focus when you're - ah. There. _Now_ you may look."

Eagerly, Alina reached for the mirror, admiring the shimmering purple streak in her hair. "That's amazing," she announced, before turning to her friend. " _You're_ amazing."

"I am, aren't I?" Genya touched a hand to her own auburn locks, before wrinkling her nose. "It's not for me, though."

"Well, we can't all be perfect already."

In the year or more since Alina had arrived at the Little Palace, Genya had only gotten more beautiful. She was twelve now, and even Alina could tell that she was _just_ on the cusp of - something else. Alina herself had grown into a pretty child, but it was nothing compared to Genya.

It seemed that, as the months passed, that old look most of the Grisha children wore only deepened in her friend's eyes. Like she was beginning to understand something she wished she didn't. Alina thought about asking sometimes, but the words always died in her throat.

She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

 

**vii.**

Purple streaks abounded in people's hair throughout spring, although Alina had no idea how people managed it without Genya's help. They were never as good, of course, always a little too bright, a little too garish. The fashion even transitioned its way over to the Grand Palace, and rumours raced back about women - and a few men - turning their whole heads colours of the rainbow.

That, Alina thought, was a little excessive. In contrast, she noted that Zoya's hair remained its disgustingly luxurious dark self during the entire experiment.

Her training continued. Life had taken on a sort of rhythm that she delighted in. It was never _boring_ , even if she occasionally did the same thing twice in a row. The spectre of Keramzin, once a nightly visitor, shrank away until she sometimes wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. Even the hole in her heart where Mal had been felt more like a dark patch now than anything else - marring the surface, certainly, but not burrowing deep.

That may have been helped along by the Incident in summer. The approach of her new birthday - this one announced to all and sundry - had her thinking about her old one, and who she shared it with.

Guilty, it occurred to Alina that she had never written to Mal. So caught up in the sheer _missingness_ of him, the strangeness of the Little Palace, the confusion of her own life, she'd never even thought about it. Keramzin had been cut from her like an amputated limb, and the way the Darkling had put it, doing more than just thinking about it would only encourage infection.

It was Zoya leaving that gave Alina the idea. Grisha students leaving for any amount of time, even a short trip due to their extremely impressive record, was - well, not unheard of, but unusual enough to garner attention. People didn't flock away from Alina to the other girl, but they did start splitting their time a little more evenly.

A part of Alina knew that once, that wouldn't have bothered her. Now? It rankled, just a little bit. Now, she felt the urge to compete rising up in her chest. That, combined with the guilt over her failure to write to Mal, combined one summer evening when the Darkling had been called back to the Grand Palace.

She had maybe picked her moment badly. Summer meant the height of the campaigning season, after all, and the fact that the Darkling was even in Os Alta meant that the king was throwing his weight around, meant that the Darkling wouldn't be happy. Still, some kind of strain always seemed to ease from him when he was around her, or at least that's what Alina liked to think the slowly relaxing form of his shoulders said.

So she went for it, almost as soon as he was seated in her receiving room. "I want to go to Keramzin."

She knew she'd said the wrong thing the moment the words fell from her lips. It wasn't anything the Darkling said. He barely even moved - did the opposite, in fact, stilling completely in his chair. His eyes cut to her like a silver blade, and a chilling sense of deja vu slunk down Alina's spine.

This was the stranger. The Darkling that most people knew, the Darkling whispered about by peasants and warned about by other Grisha students when they thought she couldn't hear. The Darkling she had met only once or twice, and had hoped to never see again.

"What."

Alina felt her fingers curling into the arms of her chair. What had she done? It didn't seem like such a big deal to her - not a small deal, but nothing to provoke this sort of response. She swallowed, and didn't repeat herself. He knew what she had said; he was looking for an explanation.

"I never - wrote," she said lamely. "I told you there was someone there I cared about, and I just left. He promised he'd find me again, but I know that's not going to happen. The Little Palace isn't for him. But I'd like to see him, to explain - to say goodbye."

It sounded weak, even to her own ears. Why now, after all? She could have asked at any point to go, after all. The excuse that she had been afraid of putting Keramzin in danger didn't really hold - after all, nothing had changed now to make that not apply. Her vague idea had been that no one would have to know she was the Sun Summoner, which was a vague idea that could have come up at any moment.

Alina ducked her head, not needing any prompting from the Darkling to keep going. He waited, in silence, for her to continue. "And Zoya is allowed to make a visit. Other students have been, too. I just thought…"

And like that, the stranger turned away. Her Darkling returned, grey gaze softening, shoulders relaxing. "Jealousy is unattractive, _solnyshko_."

She flushed, but it wasn't just from embarrassment. "I'm not jealous!" A pause. "Not _only_. This is important to me. What's the big deal? Genya can come, she can change my appearance. No one has to know anything about me being the Sun Summoner. I wouldn't even have to stay for a day."

"Do you think the Little Palace is free from spies?" The Darkling's voice washed over her, cool and sure and unrelenting. She shivered. "Your absence would be noted. Ravka is large, but her enemies are many. Maybe you would be found, maybe you wouldn't. But sooner or later, your footsteps would be traced. Keramzin would suffer for it. This boy, that you care so much about? He would suffer for it."

"Then bring him here!" The words exploded out of her before she could stop them, pushed out by a sudden, awful realisation that she was never going to see Mal again. Hard on the heels of that realisation was another one, equally as terrible.

She found she didn't mind as much as she should have. She was forgetting him. She had thought she couldn't live without him, but it had been proved beyond doubt over the past year that she could. She was doing fine - better than fine. And there was no sign that that would change.

She felt like a traitor. And looking at the way the Darkling's eyes hardened again, she couldn't tell who to.

"Have you been ill-treated, here?"

"Wh-what?"

He stood, abruptly, and the swirl of his _kefta_ around him seemed more ominous than humorous. Alina felt herself shrinking back into her chair as he approached her, his steps perfectly measured. He crouched before her, one cold hand taking her chin and directing her face up to look at him. It wasn't hard, it wasn't cruel - she almost would have termed the touch gentle, if she hadn't been so suddenly frightened. That familiar surge of power rose up in her, but the surety - the calm - was absent this time. She couldn't reach it.

"I asked if you have been ill-treated," he said evenly, but his evenness was worse than if he'd yelled. "Have your lessons, your friends, your position at the Little Palace made you unhappy?"

Something thick and painful clawed its way up her throat. Tears pricked at her eyes. "No."

The Darkling didn't seem to notice. He continued, inexorable. "A lot has been done to make you comfortable, here. Even so, if it was safe, I would take you to Keramzin myself. But it isn't."

There was a pause. Alina was mostly sure she had stopped breathing, not wanting to make things worse.

"You ask for what no Grisha has ever received. Bring him here? What would he do? The boy does not dream of being a servant while you grow into your rightful place, _solnyshko_. If he were here, he would come to resent you and everything you represent. There is a reason that Grisha are separated from _otkazat'sya._ With distance, comes reverence, closer Grisha get to them, the more that turns to fear, to hatred. I would not see that happen to you."

They were kind words, in a way. Objectively, Alina could understand that he was trying to impress the reality of the situation onto her, like that would make it easier.

But Alina, at the heart of it, was a nine year old girl. Objectivity was not her strong point. So she stared back at him in the silence after that speech, stared and stared until she couldn't stare any longer and the wall all of that staring had built came crashing down. Tears spilled over her eyelids, her whole body shaking with the force of them. She lifted her hand, biting down on the side to try and stifle the sob that had been working its way into her mouth, but it was no good.

"I'm - sorry!" she gasped. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. I just wanted - I wanted-"

She didn't even know what she had wanted, and that was the worst part. To see Mal? Yes, absolutely. But there was that other part of her, the part that had pushed her into bringing it up, and that didn't have anything to do with Mal. That was all jealousy, all a sudden and new need to be _first_. To be the best.

"Please stop looking at me like that." She twisted her head, trying to break away from his hold on her. He let go almost immediately. " _Please_ , I didn't mean to make you mad."

The silence stretched on. Another sob shuddered through Alina's body, and was chased not long after by a fear as cold as his voice had been. Had she made things worse? She had made things worse. The Darkling wasn't the kind of man to suffer tears, not even from the Sun Summoner. Maybe especially not from her. Maybe-

"Forgive me, _solnyshko_."

His hand was a soft, soothing weight on her shoulder. Not a solid one, though - his touch was almost tentative, like he wasn't sure that this was the appropriate path to take. The image of the Darkling's massive, strategic mindpower abruptly arrested by a crying nine year old was so completely ridiculous that a snort of laughter broke through Alina's tears, although they didn't yet stop.

"I was harsh with you," he continued, and Alina thought that through the haze of her crying, she could see a faint smile twitch in response to her laugh. "I forget, sometimes, that you are only young."

"You call me _little sun_ ," she pointed out, before she could stop herself. But any traces of the stranger had long since erased themselves from his visage, and that faint smile eased her fear, the worry that he had suddenly started to see her like - well, like anyone else.

"Ah." The smile widened, as the crying slowly ceased. "Should I stop?"

That hadn't been her point at all, but Alina shook her head violently anyway, just in case he was serious.

He wasn't. And so they both moved on from the Incident, although it was a long time before Alina could shake the image of those steel gray eyes, carving into her with a Healer's - or Heartrender's - precision.

 

**viii.**

He was in Os Alta long enough to attend her birthday celebration. His gift, bestowed in front of everyone, was a bracelet of beaded alexandrite, to match the necklace she wore prominently at her throat.

He left the next day. When she was sure he was gone, Alina carefully unstrung the bracelet, removing just one of the beads before putting it back together again.

It went into the drawer, next to the littlest nesting doll.


	8. Chapter 8

**i.**

Alina began to visit Baghra more.

At first, it wasn't intentional, nothing she actually thought about. She'd just go to Baghra's once they were done on the grounds, and continue to needle the woman about her powers, how old she was, why she lived in a hut instead of the Little Palace.

How she knew the Darkling.

Baghra never gave her a straight answer - more frequently, Alina got a whack to the shins for her impertinence. But she had learnt over the months that a whack to the shins was as bad as Baghra got. Marie and Nadia murmured about how _brave_ she was, facing the dragon almost every day, but Alina didn't feel brave.

Baghra was Baghra. And, Alina was starting to realise, Baghra was _honest_.

Not that everyone went around lying to get, but - well, Os Alta still wasn't an overly honest place. Especially when it came to the Darkling.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that the face of him that she thought of as the stranger was just as much a part of him as the quiet, contemplative man who sent her presents. He tried to hide it from her, which she appreciated on one level. But on another, it just made her wonder what else he was hiding.

"He does things to people, doesn't he?" she said one evening, sitting cross legged on the floor, near the fire. It was heading into autumn again,a nip in the air.

Baghra paused. It was faint, barely there, but Alina had learnt by now that the woman rarely hesitated before unleashing her wrath.

"Be more specific," she snapped.

It was as good as a yes. Alina nodded to herself, fingers twisting in the black of her clothes.

"I don't like it."

Baghra snorted. "The people on the receiving end probably like it a lot less, girl." Her lip curled. "There's nothing that boy wouldn't do for Ravka."

"No, I know. That's not what I meant." Alina thought for a moment, trying to find a way to word her problem. "I don't...want to have things hidden from me. If he's not nice sometimes, he's not, but I don't want him to pretend that he _is_ all the time." She looked down, mumbling the next part. "It just makes it scarier when he forgets."

There was another one of those long pauses, before gnarled fingers reached down to grasp her chin. Her face was forced without kindness or care up to meet gray eyes, and a quiet thought kindled in the back of Alina's mind.

"You should be scared of him," Baghra said. "He is all he appears to be, Alina Starkov."

It was the first time Baghra had called her by name. It added such weight to the situation, Alina felt as though the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for her response to send it all crashing down.

She nodded again. Unclenched her fingers from her clothes, smoothed them out again. "Okay," she said simply, trying to ignore Baghra's hand on her chin. "Thank you."

Another snort. "Idiot children will be the death of me." She let go of Alina's face, and waved her hand towards a bookshelf. "If you're going to be a nuisance, at least don't be a useless one. Read to me, girl."

Once, the thought would have filled her with trepidation. Now, however, Alina simply grinned, pushing herself to her feet. "Yes, Baghra."

 

**ii.**

"My brother is dead."

_No tears this time_ , was Alina's first dazed thought. Ivan was leaning against the wall outside her room, arms crossed over his chest. It almost would have been casual, if not for the hard, defiant stare he was giving her _oprichniki_.

"I'm…" What was she supposed to say to that? Alina's second thought was the brief, irrational wish that Ivan's family would stop dying, because she'd run out of platitudes with the uncle. "I'm sorry, Ivan. That's awful."

"Yeah." He dragged his eyes from her guards to her, and that hard look dissipated. Just a little bit.  
"It is. And my younger brother gets drafted next year."

There was a haunted look in his eyes, she realised. Something like a certainty, that his little brother was going to die, just like the rest of his family. Alina's third thought, also absurd, was that her orphaning had been much less painful. A single cut, and done. Not these thin slices, pain building up into agony, wondering when the next one would come.

"Can he - I mean, is he looked after?" Alina asked after a moment. She couldn't help with that kind of pain. She didn't think anything would.

Ivan's face twisted. She'd seen it shift in grief before, but this wasn't like that. It was almost mocking, although if it was directed at her, or himself, or something else, she couldn't be sure.

"Grisha families are well provided for." He sounded like he was quoting someone. "He is fifteen and by himself. Our mother is long since passed."

"I'll send some things to him." Alina hoped she didn't sound too relieved, having hit upon a way she could help. "Not _provisions._ Just - things. And you could probably ask permission to visit, you know. Like Z-Zoya did."

Her tongue tripped at the memory, but Ivan didn't seem to notice. He shook his head, that hard note biting back into both voice and expression.

"I can't. When the Darkling next leaves for the border, I'm going with him."

Only the best were asked to remain with the Darkling on his travels. For Ivan to be recruited when he technically wasn't even a proper Grisha yet…

She had chosen her training partner well, apparently. Although the thought of a powerful Heartrender made her shudder, just a bit. The hardness in Ivan promised that it would be put to use.

"Don't-" she started, and then stopped, aware that she wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. Don't get hurt? Don't go crazy? Don't do anything for Ravka? "-forget me."

"Forget you?" The question seemed to amuse him. "I don't think there's a person in the whole country who's going to forget you, Alina. Plus. You made me a promise."

_I'm going to make sure it won't happen to anyone else._ A promise she'd already broken. Alina ducked her head, trying to stare holes into the ground.

A hand tucked her under the chin, and she heard her guards shifting behind her, ready to take Ivan down if need be. The boy himself was grinning down at her; the smile itself might have been genuine, but that too-intense hardness was still dominant in his gaze. "Grow up soon, Sun Summoner."

It wasn't blame in his voice, for her failure to fulfill what she'd promised. It was anticipation. Alina thought about what she knew of war, of what too much heat could do to a person, of what happened when you focused light too intently.

She waited until Ivan disappeared before she allowed herself a shudder.

 

**iii.**

Ivan's words stuck with her long after he left, distracting her, turning her mood sour. She even parted with the Darkling on a bad note, an impressive feat given how determined he'd been to be gentle with her since the Incident.

"Take care, _solnyshko_ ," he had said, with a faint warmth that might as well have been a hug, for how demonstrative the Darkling got.

Alina had scowled, frustration at him and herself and stupid Ivan boiling over. "Stop calling me that," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

She'd gotten a raised eyebrow in return, but nothing else. The Darkling didn't demand explanations when his silence could do it for him.

"I'm not just a child!" she exploded. "I'm the Sun Summoner! I don't need to be protected, I don't need you to force yourself to be nice to me all the time, and I _definitely_ don't need to be your little sun!"

The silence had stretched in, becoming almost it's own entity. Alina practically vibrated with tension as it reached for her, twining around her body and tightening.

"I am going to show you something," he said finally. "It will scare you. You can say no."

Say no, and remain a child. That part went unspoken. Alina lifted her chin and squared her jaw, catching his gaze dead on.

"I've seen worse than whatever you're going to show me," she said, and distant memories of fire and screams became a little less distant.

She was the Sun Summoner. She was going to grow up. She would fulfill her promise.

The Darkling frowned slightly, and Alina had to wonder if he even knew the reason behind her being in Keramzin in the first place, or if he had just shrugged off everything about her previous life as though it didn't matter. She honestly couldn't blame him if it was the latter - it wasn't like she hadn't done exactly the same thing. Lingering too much on your past was seen as a sign of disrespect to the duke.

Then he sighed, with something like reluctance, and Alina felt a sliver of fear slip down her spine despite herself.

The clap was a quiet, soft thing, but it echoed through her like a crack of thunder. Darkness billowed out from his hands,a living, seeking thing. It's tentacles reached out, filling every inch of the room until there was nothing else. No room, no Darkling, nothing but the sound of her breath coming hard in her chest.

Strangely, it made her think of Mal. He had been the one afraid of the dark.

"What-" she started, but the Darkling's soft voice interrupted her.

"Summon."

She didn't have to be told twice. It was mid morning outside, the sun well on its path across the sky. Alina reached out gratefully for it, for the light and the heat, and for a brief moment she gave birth to a second sun in the palm of her hands, warm and glowing.

And then it was gone. Smothered by the dark, frowned, glancing uncertainly in the direction the Darkling had last been standing.

"Again."

She repeated the process, with more determination and effort this time. Again, the Darkling covered her efforts, and again, he demanded she summon.

Alina couldn't say how long it was before his point was made. She was stubborn; her body gave out before her will did, knees buckling under her. The darkness was gone in an instant, all of the Darkling's gentle cruelty gone as he caught her, leading her towards her sofa.

"Do you understand, _solnyshko_?"

She panted, squeezing her eyes shut. Images of her flickering, fading light filled her mind.

She was the Sun Summoner. And she was weak. A child

"I don't want to talk to you right now," she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

He sighed. "I'm leaving, you know."

"Good!"

"I warned you."

"I don't. Care."

For a moment nothing happened, and Alina risked opening one eye to look up at him. The corner of his mouth had quirked up, for reasons she didn't understand. She crossed her arms tighter, and waited until he left.

She was glad she had looked, though. That smile, small and half-formed though it was, was a small comfort in the face of this new realisation.

 

**iv.**

"You silly little idiot," Genya sighed. She was standing in the doorway between Alina's receiving room and the bedroom, the only person other than the Darkling who had permission to enter freely. "What did you think was going to happen, challenging him? And over something as ridiculous as a nickname."

She pushed off the doorframe, hurrying over to Alina, who was sitting on the edge of her too-big bed, staring down at her hands. Before she was really aware of what was happening, her friend had tugged her into a hug, stroking her hair. The story had just sort of pulsed out of her, the words needing to escape after she had spent too much time ruminating on them.

"Was it very terrible?" Genya murmured.

Alina thought about the slide of his power over hers, the sheer helplessness of being _able_ to summon, but simply not being _strong_ enough to keep going.

There was something wonderful, about what the Darkling could do.

"Yes," she replied quietly. "It was." Because she couldn't do it.

_Grow up soon, Sun Summoner._

At least, not yet.

 

**v.**

One day, Alina would best the Darkling.

It wasn't a resentful thought. She didn't hate him for what he he had done - he was right after all. She had been warned.

No, this was a challenge. Another promise, and one that she would keep, about improving her skills and becoming the Sun Summoner that Ravka needed.

She would best him. She would be strong enough. And together, they would take down the Shadowfold.

 

**vi.**

Months passed. He didn't return. The winter was a particularly cruel one that year, and Alina kept her blood warm by throwing herself into her studies. She eked a few begrudging compliments out of Botkin, in spite of Ivan's absence, and even Baghra grumbled at her less.

She wrote first, signing off with a simple _I am getting better. Thank you._

His reply was short, and to the point. _I know, solnyshko. I expected nothing less of you._

Simple pleasure blossomed in her chest. There was something about that expectation that gave her hope, not concern. The Darkling didn't put his faith in things he didn't believe in.

The winter fete came and went. Alina and Genya skipped chores the night of it (those decidedly did _not_ count as training) and pretended as though they were going to, Genya abusing her abilities terribly to make them both as fabulous as possible. At thirteen, some girls might have considered dress-up beneath them; Genya, however, revelled in it.

"Dress-up is what I do, darling." She carefully wound a single lock of hair around her finger, creating a perfect curl. "Beauty is the same sort of armour as the clothes you wear. A weapon, too, if you know how to use it."

Alina wasn't sure where she'd picked up that _darling_ affectation, but she couldn't deny that it suited her friend. It was just such a decadent part of speech, and for all of Genya's usually simple dress, decadent fit her own beauty to a T.

"If beauty is a weapon, then you are the strongest person I know," Alina informed her.

Gold eyes sparkled back at her, enhanced by Saints only knew what. Genya's kit had expanded in recent months. "Of course I am."

 

**vii.**

She wrote to Ivan's brother (who was called Dmitri, had a fascination with everything Grisha, but was content to settle for soldiering). She wrote to Ivan, who had settled into life in the Second Army with an unsettling sort of ease. She wrote to the Darkling still, even though she probably got more information actually _about_ him from Ivan, who seemed to be in a constant state of awe and terror when it came to the man.

It wasn't, Alina thought, a bad mix to aim for. She could definitely use some more of that when it came to Zoya, who was less than pleased with Alina's new focus on her training. Especially when Botkin moved her up a class - even without Ivan, her physical prowess had increased enough that the old man thought she could handle the more experienced students.

Zoya smiled brighter and hit harder than everyone else. The only thing that kept Alina from losing her temper completely and just blinding the other girl was the fact that she _knew_ Zoya was seeking some kind of reaction, the satisfaction that she was one of the few people who could get under the skin of the Sun Summoner

"You could always, oh, I don't know - stop spending time around her when you don't have to?" Genya suggested.

Alina shook her head. "I can't. Then she'd win."

"Yes, well. _Your_ winning is making breakfast like walking a verbal minefield."

That was true. Zoya's tongue was cutting, and Alina only rarely managed to managed to get one over on her. She almost prefer the physical jabs.

A spasm of pain radiated out from her ribs as she stalked along the corridor towards her room. _Almost_. Feet clattered behind her, but she ignored it - if they were a problem, her _oprichniki_ would do something about-

A sharp gasp tore itself from her teeth, and she whirled on tall, gangly figure who had just about pushed her over in his haste to get down the hall. Sunlight pooled in her fingertips, and for a moment she wondered what would happen if she threw it at him.

"Ah!" A wide grin split the boy's face, a strange mixture of mischief and relief. "You must be the Sun Summoner I have heard so very much about." Hazel eyes flickered briefly over her head, and Alina looked instinctively behind her. Her guards were there, looking a little sheepish, and so was the heavier, shuffling sound of more footsteps.

Alina clenched her fingers on the light, dispersing it. "What, exactly, have you heard about me?"

"That you are a protector of the innocent, a saviour of men, and inclined to help a stranger in need?" the boy asked hopefully.

Alina wasn't sure she was any of those things, and the baffled look on her face probably said it.

"BOY, YOU GET BACK HERE WITH THAT PIE! BY THE SAINTS, I'M GOING TO SKEWER YOU AND ROAST YOU ALIVE!"

The boy winced, seeing Alina's eyebrows skate up her forehead. "Strangely enough, I don't find myself enticed to return!" he shot back over her head, before grasping her shoulder with one hand. He couldn't use both, she noted, because he was carefully balancing a pie on the other.

"Innocent," she repeated flatly.

"This has all been a terrible misunderstanding!"

Alina waited. The shuffling grew closer.

"Well - no, all right. I took the pie, I admit it. But in my defense, a head chef really should be keeping a better eye on their kitchen, and not sleeping by the fire." His face, open and expressive, took on a pleading look that almost seemed genuine. "Help me, Sun Summoner. You're my only hope."

It was only a second, a brief flashback that returned her to Keramzin, to sneaking into the kitchens with Mal, getting caught at times, making their escape with some stolen treat more often. Just a second, but sometimes, that was all a person needed.

"I want half," she announced.

One of her guards choked on a laugh.

"What?"

"The pie. I want half."

The boy looked pained. "A quarter."

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "Half, or I'll leave you to your _thoroughly earned_ fate right now."

The shuffling was thumping now, and Alina saw a thick smear of white starting to round the corner. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, before heaving a sigh. One last, mournful look was given to his pie, before he nodded.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I'm not a big fan of fate. Half it is."

Alina grinned up at him, triumphant, before primly turning her back on him in time to meet the chef's purple, puffed up face.

"GIRL, YOU BETTER NOT BE-"

"Ex _cuse_ me." Alina let the light bloom between her fingers again, cutting the man off mid-sentence. "You're interrupting."

She spoke the way she did on those rare occasions that she had Zoya by the throat, adding a sweet smile for good measure. The man looked like he was about to protest, when he finally noticed the light in her palms.

He abruptly deflated, the purple in his face draining to white so fast she was concerned for his health. She opened her mouth to ask if he was all right, but he'd already fled, thoughts of the pie apparently gone from him.

"Well," the boy said from behind her. "That was effective."

He had a dagger out, and was already slicing the dessert deftly in half when Alina turned back to him. Her eyes widened - what _were_ her guards doing, letting someone get that close to her with a weapon? But then there was half a pie in her hands, warm and sweet smelling, and Alina forgot to ask.

"I'd say it was a pleasure doing business with you, my lady, but I fear I've been robbed." He swept her a bow anyway, backing away as he did so. "I bid thee adieu, before I lose anymore of my ill-gained profits to your greedy hands."

"My hands are _not_ greedy," she protested, but he was already disappearing around the corner. It had been so long since anyone but Genya had spoken to her like that, she wasn't sure whether to be pleased, or offended. "Wait! What's your name?"

"Ask your guards!"

Genya, of course, found the whole experience far too amusing. "I can't believe," she laughed, "that you met a prince of Ravka without even realising it."

"How was I supposed to know?" Alina demanded. "He didn't behave anything like a prince. And he looked nothing like his father."

Genya arched an eyebrow at her. "You are _far_ from the first person to notice."

 

**viii.**

The Darkling returned with summer, but Alina didn't seek him out. Their written correspondence had picked up, of course, but she still hadn't _seen_ him since their unfortunate goodbye. She might have been training since then, but she only had to think about the effortless way he had pinched out her power to know that it was merely another drop against his ocean.

Alina could feel a strange sort of desperation growing in her. She didn't speak about it to anyone, but where her power had once been such a joy to her, it no longer seemed...enough. She could create light, whole lakefuls of the stuff, beauty and heat and life, but what could she do with it? It clearly wasn't enough to destroy the Fold, or else the Darkling would have taken her to do that already.

She wanted more. She _needed_ to be able to do more, or else what was Sun Summoner even good for?

_Scaring chefs and putting on light shows_.

She turned eleven, and spent half the day trying to decide if the jewels on the hairpins the Darkling gave her meant something - they were diamond this time, rather than alexandrite. Had there been any kind of significance to his previous gifts, or was it simply coincidence that alexandrite had caught his eye two years in a row, while diamond occupied his attention now?

It hurt her head to think about, so she didn't. There was a party that night, a celebration in her honour. The Darkling couldn't attend, caught in another debacle with the King, but she still had Genya slide the pins into her hair.

Ivan was there. For some absurd reason, seeing him made Alina glad she had decided to look her best.

 

**ix.**

"Come with me." There was a strange note of apprehension in Genya's voice. "There's someone I want you to meet."

"I'm busy right now."

And she was. A single beam of sunlight split the leafy canopy overhead, thick and unyielding. It seemed almost like a solid thing, if not for the spectre of a tree trunk wavering through from behind it. Baghra had refused to teach her more offensive skills, so Alina was making them up.

Sort of. She didn't have a use for 'pillar of hot light' yet, but she was sure she would think of one. Hopefully.

"You've been out here for hours."

She could sense the tension in Genya's body, even though she didn't turn her head. The hesitation.

"It's the weekend," Alina pointed out. She could feel a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face, her whole body damp and sticky. "I can spend my time how I like."

Silence. It took a couple of seconds for Alina to realise the shift in her voice, the imperious, immovable voice. Her hands shook, and after a beat or two, she lowered them. The light winked out of existence.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Genya was staring at her. The older girl was usually a master of her expression, but the startled, wide eyes said that Alina had taken her by surprise somehow, enough so that she couldn't quite hide it.

"What?" Alina smeared a hand over her face self-consciously, which probably didn't help with whatever Genya was looking at.

"Nothing." The response was immediate, before Genya gave herself a little shake, tugging on a smile. "You just look beautiful, dear. Exhausted and smelly, but gorgeous."

"...Oh."

And that was the way with Grisha, wasn't it? The more power you used, the more beautiful you were.

It occurred to Alina then that the Darkling could probably be considered good-looking. Beautiful himself, even, if you could use that word with a man. Alina wasn't sure. It did make sense, though.

She puffed out her cheeks, levering herself to her feet. The scent of sweat and charred grass wafted behind her. "Is it all right if I bathe before going to meet this stranger of yours?"

Genya wrinkled her nose a little. "Please. I insist."

 

**x.**

"This is David."

Alina blinked, a little uncertain. _David_ didn't even appear to have noticed that people had entered the room, bent over a workbench as he was. Fiddly bits of mirror surrounded him, and one of his fingers was sullenly oozing blood.

He didn't seem to have noticed that, either.

"David." Genya's voice held an eternal patience as she touched his shoulder lightly. "Say hello to the Sun Summoner."

"Alina is fine," Alina said, hard on her heels. The title sat ill at ease with her lately.

Genya sighed, a _what am I going to do with you?_ sort of sound. Alina wasn't sure if that was supposed to be directed at her, or David. Who, it seemed, was a Durast. She followed a stray flicker of light with her eyes, the way it bounced off the myriad of mirrors under the boy's bloody fingers.

"What?" David started, like he'd just realised there were people in the room, and that one of them was touching them. She could almost see him replaying the sounds of the last minute or two in his head, translating them into a language he could understand. "Oh. Hello, Sun Summoner."

He returned to his work. Alina shot a frustrated look at Genya, confused as to what she was even doing here. Genya just sighed again, poking the boy in the shoulder.

" _David_. Tell the - tell Alina what you're working on."

"Gloves," he replied absently. He must have been aware of his injured finger in _some_ capacity, because he deftly avoided letting it drip anywhere, his work pristine. Peering a little closer, Alina could see that the black (of course) material underneath the mirrors was, in fact, shaped into a pair of gloves. "Mirrors reflect light. You'll be able to dazzle an opponent, blind them probably. It'll help your control. Focus. I thought about it a while ago, so it's pretty easy to put together."

Alina's mouth opened, and then shut again. _Focus_. She could focus her power, direct it in any direction she liked - so long as that was all she was doing. If she needed her hands for something else - like defending herself - she was as good as useless when it came to control.

The gloves, if they worked, would change that.

"If you thought about them a while ago, why are you only making them now?"

"Had other projects. Durasts don't usually work on things for specific students, just Grisha. And I'm technically not supposed to-"

"David's still a student like us," Genya interrupted smoothly. "So no one asked him. Most Grisha don't start getting personalised weapons until they're actually Grisha, but I've seen you lately. You need something...more."

"If you need anything else," David added, still focused on his work, "let me know. I have a few other ideas."

 

**xi.**

Alina was eleven and a half years old when Vasily Lantsov, Crown Prince of Ravka, demanded a meeting with her.

In the middle of practicing with her gloves, Alina accidentally singed the edge of her curtain. She was halfway through a curse when she remembered just who it was speaking to her, exactly, and broke off. Hurrying over to check she hadn't done too much damage, she could feel the embarrassed heat crawling up the back of her neck.

"Why _now_?" she demanded, making no mention of the scene she'd just created.

The Darkling's voice was touched with amusement when he spoke again, but he gave her the dignity of not bringing it up. "It seems someone let slip about an encounter you had with his brother."

Alina snorted, tucking the burnt edge of the curtain in on itself so it couldn't be seen, before straightening. "If he wants pie, I'm sure there's any number of chefs willing to make one for him."

She was in a bad mood, and nervous besides. One, she wasn't entirely sure if she was allowed to have the gloves. Two, she still hadn't mastered using them. Setting a curtain on fire hadn't exactly been a part of her grand plan to show the Darkling how much she was improving.

"Vasily takes after his father," the Darkling said meaningfully.

It wasn't hard to figure out why. Alina set her jaw. "So I'm a prize, and he's mad he didn't win me first."

"Madder still he didn't realise it was a competition until now."

"Ugh."

The Darkling eyed her carefully. "A prince seeking your attention doesn't please you?"

"Being treated like a thing doesn't please me," she huffed. "And unless he can help me set things that aren't curtains on fire, I don't care who he is."

He smiled. It softened his face, made him seem younger. Alina wondered what it would be like, if he were really the age he appeared to be. Wondered how long _she_ would be that age.

"You honesty is a gift, _solnyshko_."

Alina tried not to make a face at the name. It was still a sore point for her, even if she didn't _really_ mind it. It still made her special to him after all, the only person who was important enough for him to address with some affection. "I don't think the prince will think so."

"The prince thinking," the Darkling mused. "A concept unheard of before now, I think."

She giggled, and for a moment it felt like older, simpler times. The weight of her title lifted from her shoulders, and she seemed to fill the air around her, instead of failing to walk in the shoes her power had created for her.

It was nice. But that strange desperation remained in her gut, killing her laughter. Alina sighed, carefully tugging off her gloves. "If the prince is making demands, I guess I have to fulfill them."

The Darkling's face returned to its usual unreadable set, grey gaze flickering to her new toy briefly. "You _are_ growing up."

 

**xii.**

Vasily took after his father in the worst possible ways. He left her hand wet after he kissed it, and stared at her expectantly like she was supposed to blush and duck her head at his gallantry. Alina's thoughts trailed briefly to the pie-prince's charming, easy manner, and thought she understood Vasily a little more. He must have lost more than one prize to his younger brother already.

Genya, she thought, would have known to handle this peacock of a man. Genya knew how to handle _most_ things. Alina, on the other hand, wasn't used to people speaking to her as though they were indulging her. Like she should be honoured that they would condescend to speak to her.

"If you are lucky, and train hard, we will be working together when you have grown up," he informed her. Alina wondered what he would do if she set his too-shiny shoes on fire. "Obviously, it makes sense for us to meet now."

_You didn't even remember I existed until the other prince let it slip he'd met me!_ The next time she saw that stupid boy's face, she was going to force him to meet with Zoya for an hour.

"I - of course," she managed. It was all she could get out around the other, ruder words crowding her throat. Making an enemy of the crown prince would be a terrible idea, she was pretty sure.

Vasily seemed to take her reticence as a sign of the demureness she'd been missing when he'd first greeted her, and beamed. Alina resisted the urge to gag, and sat patiently as he blathered on about his plans for a stable, and did she like riding (of course she did), and had she heard they'd found a rogue Grisha was fixing the races in Caryeva?

The crown prince did not like Grisha. The crown prince did not seem to understand the danger in letting this slip to an _actual Grisha._ By the time Alina managed to extricate herself from the meeting, her cheeks ached from the force of smiling with her teeth so tightly gritted.

"I won't even ask," Genya murmured, as she stomped back into the school's lunch hall. She was _starving_ \- the prince had assumed she wouldn't want cake, and taken all the provided delicacies for himself!

"Only the Sun Summoner could be displeased about meeting the Crown Prince," Zoya sniffed.

Alina didn't bother to hide her scowl, or find something suitably clever to shoot back at her. "He's all yours," she said shortly, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that the heir to the kingdom was an _idiot._

 

**xiii.**

She didn't succeed. Vasily's smeary smile haunted her, his stupid lack of chin, his stupid _everything_. She could barely remember her meeting with the king, so long ago now, and that was a _problem_.

A king should have presence. A king should stick with a person long after they left his presence. A king should be able to talk about something other than _horses_. The feeling in Alina's gut gnawed deeper, and she took her frustrations out on her training, her learning. She even managed to hit Zoya, but instead of being satisfied by the experience, she mostly just wanted to hit her again.

She wanted to hit everything. And she knew she couldn't, which only made her want to hit things more.

Slowly, surely, the nightmares clawed their way back into Alina's life. This time, however, it wasn't Keramzin that burned. It was Ravka. She dreamed of Ivan's brother Dmitri, trying to make himself love conscription even in the face of his dead family. She dreamed of the Darkling, forced to be constantly on the move by a useless king. She dreamed of Baghra, turned bitter after too many years of living in a country that couldn't seem to save itself.

She dreamed, for the first time in a long time, of herself. Of Alina Starkov, who had gotten her surname from somewhere. Someone. Who had _fit_ somewhere, not spent years trying to grow into her place.

The dark circles never returned under her eyes, not with how much she pushed her power, but she could feel the memory of them resurface. She peered into her mirror, ran her fingers over the skin above her cheeks, pressing them into the bone as though she could make the skin purple again with a bit of prodding.

Twelve passed. She had to stop sending things to Dmitri, who said that the gifts made his fellow soldiers jealous, even though he appreciated them. They hadn't even been very impressive gifts, for that exact reason, but the poverty most of the First Army came from was dreadful.

"There's something wrong with this country," she said to the Darkling one summer night, walking along the lakeside with him. He was standing a bit apart from her, watching moths flutter around the ball of light she'd summoned to light their way.

"Yes," he agreed softly. "There is."

"Are you going to do something about it?"

Her gut roiled, the feeling trapped inside it gnashing its teeth, demanding release as the silence stretched out between them.

Finally, he looked at her. "Not without help."

 

**xiv.**

The feeling in her gut was _hunger_.

 

**xv.**

It was autumn, and the Darkling should have been heading out to the border - any of them - again. But it was the anniversary of something or other, which apparently _demanded_ the Darkling's presence, despite the fact that Ravka was in danger from practically all sides.

If Alina had spent years hating internal Grisha politics, she loathed external _otkazat'sya_ ones already. The Darkling's words of a few weeks past settled her a little, but not much. He hadn't said anything to her beyond _not without help._

But he had looked at her when he said it. And Alina had felt sure he'd meant _her_ help. And she was just as sure that the 'something' he planned didn't exactly stop with the dissolution of the Shadowfold.

Hence the reason his words had only helped settle her somewhat. A vague promise of involvement in something she didn't yet understand was just another kind of frustration, in a lot of ways.

So Alina went hunting for a way to deal with her frustration. She was pretty sure Zoya would poison her if she beat her at hand to hand again, but the urge to hit something was almost overwhelming. She ended up at the training rooms by the stable anyway, although she had the sense not to call on the other girl for help.

They were already in use. A group of impossibly beautiful young men and women had gathered in their varicoloured _kefta_ , cheering - or jeering - on two people in the middle of their loose half circle.

"Ivan?" She blurted the name before she could help herself, matching the name to the head of wavy brown hair before she even realised that she recognised him. His head jerked up, over to her, and she almost didn't recognise him for the hard, arrogant smirk on his face.

And then his opponent, a lanky, bespectacled man, took advantage of his distraction. The look was gone, replaced by a solid blow to the face; Alina yelped, resisting the urge to slap a hand over her mouth in horror. It was just a fight, for crying out loud! She'd seen plenty, even participated in some.

"Little young for you, don't you think, Ivan?" someone yelled, and Alina felt an ugly red steal her cheeks.

She opened her mouth to shout something back in turn, she wasn't even sure what, but Ivan distracted her. His recovery from the punch was almost instantaneous, and she watched, astonished, as he laid into his opponent with a new ferocity. The bespectacled man staggered back, trying to defend himself, to even get his feet under him, but Ivan was relentless.

He hit the ground. Ivan lifted his foot, like he was about to kick him, when the man managed to get both of his hands up.

"I give," he panted. "Saints, Ivan, are your fists packed with lead? I give."

There was half a second there where Alina thought Ivan might just kick the man anyway. And then he laughed, the sound sharp enough to cut yourself on as he offered the man his hand instead.

"Don't take cheap shots, Fedyor. It's beneath you."

His opponent grumbled good naturedly, shooting a curious look at Alina. Ivan noticed, and then noticed that most of the other Grisha in the room seemed to be doing the same thing. With a studied sort of casualness, he wandered over to her and gave her a slight bow.

"Sun Summoner."

His face was flushed from exertion, even under his tan - and he was browner than he'd been when he left the last time, she noticed. There was a harsh pride lighting dark eyes, and she realised that he was pleased she'd seen his victory.

Alina had to say that she was pleased too, even if it meant a flurry of whispers whooshing through his companions at the sound of her title.

"You-" Her throat was, strangely, suddenly dry. She cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks grow hotter as she tried again. "You've improved. A lot."

"Combat does that to a man," he informed her, a scowl crossing his expression at the sound of a snort from somewhere behind him. "I've heard you're not doing bad yourself."

Feeling strangely shy, Alina tried for a smile. "I hit Zoya," she admitted.

"You've done the world a favour. Come on." He jerked his head towards the still clear half circle. "Show me."

"I-" There was no hiding her nerves as she glanced around at their curious audience. For all that she'd been thinking about her duties as Sun Summoner for months now, it hadn't occurred to her to wonder about what _others_ thought of them, outside the Little Palace. What they thought of her.

But she couldn't back down now, couldn't look weak or afraid. And...despite his brutality with Fedyor, she trust him not to embarrass her in front of this crowd. After a barely perceptible pause, Alina gave a firm nod, pushing past him and striding towards the circle.

Someone whistled, but the sound wasn't rude. Grisha knew better than to underestimate small or young opponents. Curiosity remained the central emotion around her as she settled into an easy stance, warily watching the way Ivan moved as he approached her.

He was fast, but he was carrying more weight on him now than the last time they'd sparred, all of it muscle. And Alina's own speed had improved; she ducked under his first jab, dancing back out of his reach.

A slow grin curled across his lips, and he nodded his approval; she just about tripped over her own feet for some stupid reason. He took advantage, because of course he did, and Alina sucked in a sharp gasp of pain as his fist clipped her side.

He was pulling them. Too much, actually - past the initial shock of pain, the sensation faded almost immediately, and she felt a scowl settle over her features.

"Don't underestimate me," she chided him.

"Do you know what the Darkling would do to me if I broke you, Alina?"

"Who says you're going to do _that_?" she shot back. "And besides, do you see him here?"

Another ripple pulsed through the crowd , and as Alina went on the offensive, she vaguely registered it as shock, although she was too abruptly distracted by Ivan's defence to figure out what it was she'd said that had been so shocking.

It was a massively uneven fight, and everyone had known that from the start. But Alina thought she managed to hold her own well enough, the laboured way Ivan's chest began to rise and fall confirming that thought for her, even as she felt sweet crawling down her spine, pooling in the small of her back.

That embarrassed her as well, which was ridiculous - she'd done this dozens of time with the older boy before, hadn't she? Alina wasn't afraid of getting sweaty in public. She was Grisha, it wasn't like it did that much damage to her.

Still, she couldn't help but feel self-conscious, and as the bout went on, that only proved to be a distraction. Ivan himself wasn't helping, either. He was wearing a light, abbreviated _kefta_ , the red sleeves cut to his shoulders; she could see the bunch and slide of muscles under sun-bronzed skin every time he shifted, and he shifted a _lot_.

Alina felt her face getting even hotter, and her palms as well. For the second time, she nearly tripped over her feet, and for the second time, he took advantage. It brought them in closer together, and it was only a faint commotion near the door that saved her from ending up on her backside.

The Darkling had arrived, a smear of darkness amongst the bright _kefta_ of the other Grisha. It distracted Ivan more than her - something uncertain flickered across his face, but one look at the thoughtful expression on the Darkling's own face had told Alina that there was nothing to worry about. So she slammed her fist into Ivan's gut, grinning at the soft huff of air it drove from him.

"Pay attention!" she admonished, and then wrinkled her nose a little. Something smelled off, like the curtain she'd singed the day she'd found out Vasily wanted to meet her.

But Ivan didn't respond, the set of his face suddenly serious, focussed. They'd traded a few jokes during the session, but now he was silent, splitting his attention between Alina and occasional, quick glances at the Darkling.

Frustration bloomed in Alina's gut, consuming the ever-present hunger there for a moment. She threw her all into the next punch, and the one after that, even though she knew it was stupid. Ivan was better than her - stronger, faster, smarter - and she was leaving herself wide open with no way to cover.

But Alina didn't care. All of a sudden, that need to just _hit_ something had overtaken her, and there was no saying no to it.

It happened without warning. A flash, a hiss, a surprised shout of pain from Ivan; a few seconds later, the scent of singed flesh filtered through the air, accompanied by a loud curse. Ivan stumbled back away from her, clutching the forearm he'd lifted to block her blow.

" _Shit_ , Alina, what the-" Another glance back at the Darkling, and he fell silent, gritting his teeth.

Alina stared back at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "I didn't-" she stuttered, eyes dropping to the burn mark she'd just seared into his skin. "I'm sorry-"

A woman she didn't know had come forward, and Ivan turned away from her to let the Healer see to the wound. Desperately, Alina's gaze sought out the Darkling, as though he would somehow have the answer for what had just happened.

"I think, _solntse_ ," and the shift in her nickname lanced through her like a bolt of lightning, "that it is time I saw more personally to your training."

 

**interlude.**

A small crowd had gathered beneath the base of the tree. The boy grinned down at them all as he reached higher, grasping at the ever-thinning branches, pulling himself up further.

"Give it up, Mal!" someone yelled. "There's no way you're beating that record without killing yourself!"

"Well, now you've made it a challenge," the boy shouted back. Scored into the bark in front of his face was a mark with a pair of initials next to it. Ignoring the disquiet in his gut, he defeated another few feet of tree and pulled out a steak knife he'd stolen from the kitchen a few months ago, making his own mark.

_M.O._

"There's no way he'll do it." A worried voice carried up through the leaves. "Boris was in bed for a month when he tried."

"This is Mal," someone else pointed out. "He'll do it."

The boy couldn't help but grin. Manoeuvring himself about, he tried to aim for a gap in the branches. That seemed like the least painful way to do it. Thoughtlessly, he tucked the knife back into his pocket.

"Incoming!" he yelled to the bystanders, so far below.

And then he dropped.


	9. Chapter 9

**i.**

It didn't take Alina long to find Ivan, afterwards.

Word spread fast. Not that anyone had refused her all that much before, but when she asked questions now, people practically tripped over their own tongues to answer her.

It felt...good. Before, it had been the Darkling's mark on her that made people listen, maybe with a few rumours thrown in for good measure. Now, it was something she had done, and Alina had a vision of a future where she was powerful in her own right all the time, where people were more concerned about how _she_ would react than how the Darkling would.

Of course, then she remembered exactly why people were so nervous, and the guilt began to creep up on her. Having people fear she was going to burn them to a crisp wasn't the sort of power she was looking for.

She didn't think.

Alina half expected to find that Ivan was in an infirmary somewhere (she knew there was one, but she'd never visited herself). She hadn't seen the burn directly, but the fact that she had been able to smell it was an indication of how deep it went. Instead, she was directed outside, down to the lake. He was sitting cross legged on a patch of grass, watching the last dying rays of the sun play across the surface.

She hovered at the edge of a line of trees. He was still in that cut off kefta, and she could see the mark of her fist still seared into his skin. It was faded, though, blurry. The Healer had done a good job - maybe there wouldn't even be a scar.

"Are you going to say something, Alina, or did you want to just stand there some more?"

The humour in his voice made her jump more than the fact that he was speaking at all. Alina sucked in a breath, before striding across the grass to cross her arms at him. "I'm sorry."

It didn't sound like an apology. It sounded like a confrontation. She didn't like being laughed at, even if it was a good thing that he'd found something funny about the situation.

He lifted his head to squint up at her. Whatever shock she'd wrung from him earlier in the day was gone now, his face having settled back into that easy arrogance she'd first seen when he was fighting the man called Fedyor.

He gave her a lazy grin, and Alina realised that the arrogance suited him.

"Sorry for what?"

Her eyebrows skated up her forehead, even as she wrestled with a blush, stuffing it forcibly back down. Her hands flew out, gesturing at his arm. "What do you think!?"

He glanced down at the burn. "You mean the physical proof that the Sun Summoner is getting stronger?"

"Stop calling me that," she huffed. "I'm not - I mean, I'm stronger, but I'm still not strong. Not yet. And I have a name. And I _burned you_."

"I know you have a name. I used it before."

She resisted the urge to kick him.

"I've taken worse, Alina." It wasn't said reassuringly. There was a tilt to his head, a tug to his mouth that said he was proud of whatever wounds he'd won. "I can deal with a burn. Especially if it means _you_ are starting to use your power for more than just light shows."

Alina lost the battle with her cheeks, feeling the blush heat her skin. "So you're saying I should just go around crisping people up, is that it?"

Ivan leaned back on his hands, and Alina's gaze dipped without her say so, briefly examining the stretch of his biceps before snapping back up to his face. "If that's what it takes."

It was a disturbing thought. But not, perhaps, as disturbing as it should have been.

"I think being in the field has turned your head," she declared.

"Maybe. But that doesn't make me any less right."

Alina made a face at him. A beat passed, two, before she finally gave in and dropped into the grass next to him. And as the sun sunk past the horizon, she spun light in her fingers and let it dance out across the lake.

 

**ii.**

"What are you doing?"

Alina spun away from the mirror, tugging her hands from her face. "Nothing."

Genya raised both eyebrows. "It didn't look like nothing."

"Well, it _was_."

"Mm hmm." The older girl strode forward, coming up behind Alina, who sighed and returned her gaze to the mirror. Genya bent down, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Your cheekbones are fine."

Alina snorted, trying not to compare the pale perfection of Genya's face to hers. It wasn't like she was _un_ attractive. She was Grisha. But she had the kind of features that people described as striking, not stunning. Genya was all soft curves and complimentary colours, lively and vibrant.

Alina was…

A thumb smoothed over the curve of her cheek. "You have the looks to carry your power, Alina. And you're not done growing yet. Trust me, once puberty has its way with you, the world isn't going to know what hit it."

" _Genya_."

Her friend laughed, a light, tinkling sound. She dropped a quick kiss on the place where her thumb had been, and pulled away.

"Ah, but maybe the Sun Summoner doesn't want the whole world to notice yet, hmm? Maybe there's just one person she's interested in?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

But her cheeks betrayed her, flaring bright red. Genya made a sound of delight and gripped her shoulders, steering her back to the bed and dropping them both down onto it. "Tell me everything."

"There isn't anything to tell!"

"You are a terrible liar, Alina."

She pressed her own hands to her cheeks, like she could somehow force the heat out. Actually, when she thought about that, she wondered if she could, but Genya's laughter distracted her.

"Fine! Don't tell me, cruel thing. I'll get it out of you eventually. Just reassure me that it isn't - oh, Sergei. Or Zoya, saints forbid. I don't think I could take that."

Alina choked. " _No_. It's not - Genya! I don't even _like_ Zoya!"

"That," Genya said sagely, "has very little to do with it."

Both her face and her voice were bright with amusement, but once Alina managed to settle her suddenly frayed nerves (and banish any thoughts of the sunlight playing through Ivan's dark hair), she realised that there was something - off, about her friend. Genya was kind, always, and the two girls had grown close over the years. But there was a forced edge to her affection now. Not false, exactly, but like she was trying to focus on it in lieu of something else.

"Is everything all right, Genya?" She reached for one of her friend's hands, the soft fingers having slipped from her shoulders.

"Hm? Oh - of course." The older girl smiled, and it was dazzling. Too bright. "Why do you ask?"

That, more than anything else, was a sign that there was definitely something up. Genya was the queen of changing the subject. There had to be something the matter, for her to fail to do so now. Alina frowned, squeezing the hand in her grasp, feeling it twitch in response.

"Because I can tell that it's not."

For a moment, the smile froze on Genya's face, and Alina thought she was going to keep forcing it, belatedly initiate a change in topic. But then she bit her lip, shoulders slumping, and after a moment or two, she looked away.

"Things are going to change, Alina," she said softly.

"Did something happen?"

That just got a headshake from her friend. The motion seemed to shake some stubbornness back into Genya's spine, and no matter how Alina prodded her for an explanation, she refused to engage. Eventually, she gave up, allowing Genya to do something new with her hair instead.

But the words stayed with her, long after Genya would admit to remembering the conversation.

 

**iii.**

"Curls?" There was nothing but amusement in the Darkling's voice.

Alina sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her hair bounced slightly with the motion. "Genya says they're adorable."

"Genya would know."

It was near the end of winter, and she had been training with the Darkling for nearly three months now. It had been awkward, at first - afraid of hurting someone, or destroying too much private property, she hadn't been able to focus.

The Darkling had quickly taken care of that. It was the first time she had seen the Cut performed. Ivan had written to her about it, of course, but it was one thing to try and imagine it, and another to watch the pure nothingness slice through a nearby wall.

"Property destruction is not a concern," he informed her easily. "And I would be a poor commander if I let a twelve year old hurt me. Stop holding back, _solntse_."

The demonstration and the reassurance had helped, of course, but if Alina was honest? It was the new nickname that had convinced her. She was still settling into it, like a pair of new shoes that needed to be broken in, but she liked it. Not little sun. _The_ sun. Sunshine.

So she had stopped holding back. The sun, after all, didn't bother.

 

**iv.**

At least, until the chicken.

Alina had sort of suspected her training was leading up to this. The dark comments and sneers Baghra had greeted her excitement over training with the Darkling had been a hint, as had the fact that he'd only insisted on training her personally after she'd hurt Ivan.

She hadn't told Genya, uncertain if the other girl would be able to reassure her, or if she'd simply make light of her concerns. Instead, she'd done her best to prepare herself for the possibility on her own.

Watching the chicken cluck mindlessly about the training room, she wasn't sure she'd succeeded.

"You're hesitating," the Darkling said softly. He stood behind her. Not close - there had to be at least a foot between them, but that didn't matter. She was attuned to his presence, after years and these past months in his presence. It burnt into her back as hotly as anything her power could muster.

"You haven't told me what you want me to do," she pointed out, just as softly. She had the strangest urge to lean back, rest against him, but - she wasn't a child anymore. Casual touching wasn't something you _did_ with the Darkling when you didn't have the excuse of being eight years old.

"Do I have to?"

She let that sit in the space between them for a moment, eyes locked on the chicken.

"No."

She had to touch it directly. Her 'column of burning light' idea was hot enough to sting, maybe, but not burn. At least, not fast. She felt her face flush red with embarrassment as she had to chase the chicken around the room for a moment or two, but vague memories of the orphanage, or maybe even before Keramzin, enabled her to get her hands around the creature's small body.

Its pulse raced under her fingertips, beating a tattoo into her skin. Alina ignored that, ignored everything except the sunlight streaming in through an open window and the dark presence of the Darkling behind her.

She wanted to do this. She wanted to be powerful. She wanted to please him. The words thrummed in her mind in time to the chicken's heartbeat as she summoned her strength and focussed it on her hands.

There was a sudden, sharp squawk. And then her hands were empty, and the smell of charred meat and feathers sliced through the air.

Ash sifted from her fingers. Alina stared at it for a moment, and then smiled.

"I did it."

A hand settled itself on her shoulder, the smallest finger brushing her neck. "You've done well." He paused. "I should send someone to inform the kitchens, though. I think they were expecting to use that one in dinner tonight."

 

**v.**

The most difficult part to deal with was that she didn't feel bad. Some part of Alina thought that she should - that chicken hadn't done anything to her, after all. But she ate chicken sometimes, and other animals. Did it make a difference, who killed them, or how?

Deep down, Alina knew the chicken wasn't the issue, just like she knew Ivan wasn't called a Heartrender because of the amount of girlfriends he'd had. Grisha killed people. Not all of them, and not always, but it happened. To protect Ravka.

The Darkling wasn't training her to cook dinner. This was a first step, and while she might have hesitated, she had taken it without guilt or remorse.

Alina thought of blue eyes, of a chubby hand clutching hers, and rolled her neck irritably. She didn't even remember what Mal had looked like, anymore. She doubted he would recognise the person she had become.

Maybe that was why she thought of him during moments like these.

 

**vi.**

"What was it like for you, growing up?"

Alina was sprawled on the floor of her receiving room, legs stretched out towards the fire. She didn't really get cold anymore, but the heat was still a pleasant luxury as it played over her skin. Somewhere behind her, the Darkling was seated on her sofa.

When her question was greeted with silence, she twisted her body around to look back at him. She wouldn't say _he_ was sprawled, but he was certainly relaxed in a way she hadn't seen around other people. One elbow rested on the arm of the couch, and his chin rested loosely on the backs of his curled fingers as he eyed her.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked finally, and she thought she caught the faint note of real curiosity in his studiously calm voice.

She grinned at him. "Because you're old."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Are you going to pester me with questions about the level of plumbing when I was a boy, _solntse_?"

"Well, now that you bring it up…"

The good humour hung in the air between them for a moment, and Alina turned the rest of her body around to face him, tugging her knees to her chest. The flames licked at her back from behind the grate, but she ignored the heat, focussing on the way he looked at her. Like he was trying to decide how much of himself she could be trusted with.

"I travelled a lot," he said finally. "When I was younger."

Alina seized on this new tidbit eagerly, turning it over in her mind, comparing it to the admittedly thin information she already knew. "Because of the danger? I know two Darklings aren't supposed to be in the same place because of assassination concerns."

She held her breath right after the words spilled out, wondering if she'd broken whatever spell she'd cast to get him to tell her even that much. But he simply inclined his head, looking thoughtful.

"I had a dangerous childhood, it's true. It made the travel necessary." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Are you getting ideas?"

After the last time she had asked to leave? Absolutely not. Alina shook her head, curls bouncing with the motion. "The Little Palace is the safest place for me, I know that."

She hesitated, a million other questions tumbling over her head. _What was your father like? Who was your mother? What did it feel like, knowing you were going to have to be the Darkling one day?_

_What's your real name?_

All of those seemed like far too dangerous questions to be asked, but she didn't let the moment go, either.

"Tell me about somewhere you travelled," she demanded, before belatedly adding, "...Please."

She learnt about Kerch that night. The Darkling's ice melt voice seemed to warm as it ran over her, painting a picture of a place that might as well have been another world for all the familiarity Alina had with it.

"It's better here," she declared sleepily. "Even with the Shadowfold. For us, it's better."

A rustling sound drew her attention, but it was late; she couldn't keep her eyes open. A moment or two later, a gentle hand was cupping her face.

"Not good enough," he murmured. She felt him still in something like surprise as her head sagged, leaning into him.

"We'll fix it," she mumbled.

He withdrew his hand. Before the muggy haze of sleep claimed her completely, she thought she saw him smile.

 

**vii.**

"Is it hard?"

Ivan's eyebrows skated up his forehead. The two of them were slumped against a wall in one of the training rooms, watching other Grisha train after their own bout. She still hadn't come anywhere close to beating him, but she _was_ getting better. There was just something about training with actual Grisha that spurred her on.

Especially the Darkling's personal favourites, who were all so strong that even when they tried to go easy on her, it was a challenge. The only person around her own age who wasn't afraid of her was Zoya, after all, and her ego could only take so much battering.

"Be more specific," he instructed, in his abrupt way.

"Killing people."

Her own blunt response didn't help his eyebrow situation at all. "Something I should worry about, Sun Summoner?"

She shoved at his bare shoulder, ignoring the lightning thrill that shot through her at the touch of bare skin. After the past few months, she'd almost gotten used to it.

"I'm not about to go on a rampage, if that's what you mean. I've just been thinking about it."

This time his eyebrows twitched into a frown, one of the few times Alina had seen Ivan look thoughtful without also looking angry.

"No," he said finally. "It's not. I know I'm supposed to say it is, but the truth is that it's the easiest thing in the world. They're there one moment, and gone in an instant."

Alina leaned her head back against the wall, and thought about that.

"For Ravka."

It was a moment or two before Ivan replied. "Yeah. For Ravka."


	10. Chapter 10

**i.**

Alina was thirteen when she finally figured it out.

Summer had come and gone, taking the Darkling with it on campaign. Her lessons in her own ability had reverted to Baghra, who had acted like a thing possessed with the way she pushed her.

"More," the woman demanded, not even trying to hit her with her stick. That, perhaps, was the most distressing part. " _More_ , Alina."

She wasn't entirely sure when Baghra had transitioned to using her name instead of just _girl_ , but she decided that she liked it. Even if she was spread out on the ground, panting with exertion and drenched in sweat.

"Does it look," she gasped, passing her forearm over her eyes, "like anything more is going to happen this evening?"

Alina had lit up the palace grounds, her light searching out each and every crack and crevice, dispelling any and all hints of darkness. There would, tomorrow, be a litany of complaints about lost beauty sleep, she was sure.

"No," Baghra said, and there was the strangest note in her voice. If Alina didn't know the woman was too hard for sentiment, she would have said it sounded a little like despair. "It does not."

Old anxieties pricked at Alina, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position, blowing a wet lock of hair off her face. "Is that really a problem? I'm - I'm learning offensive skills. My power's grown massively. Remember when I could only light up the lake?"

Baghra sneered. Alina had no idea how old the woman was, but the expression made her strange face carry every single one of her innumerable years.

"Just how big do you suppose the Shadowfold is?"

 

**ii.**

Bigger than the palace grounds, that much Alina could guess.

"Would you stop pacing? You're making me dizzy."

Startled at the edge in Genya's voice, Alina stumbled to a halt. " _You're_ sounding cheerful."

Her beautiful friend was picking at her white sleeve, where a thread had come loose. That in and of itself was unsettling; Genya was usually nothing less than perfectly put together.

"I'm not required to have a sunny disposition all the time, you know."

 _That_ was definitely a snap. Alina set both of her hands on her hips as she swivelled to look at the other girl properly. Genya didn't give her the same courtesy, scowling out the window.

"I don't think I've ever demanded you be any particular mood at all for me," Alina pointed out. "Definitely not sunny. Your fake smiles are terrifying."

"My fake smiles are perfect," Genya mumbled.

"Maybe to people who haven't spent most of the last five years with you." She was starting to get more than a little worried now, but the second she made to step towards Genya, her entire form stiffened. Whatever she was looking for, comfort wasn't it. "Are you ever going to tell me what's bothering you? It's not something I've done, is it?"

There was a long silence. Alina tried not to sigh as she watched Genya's shoulders loosen, one at a time, as though she were slowly coaxing her body to return to a relaxed state. She loved the other girl like a sister, but her refusal - or inability - to talk about the things that bothered her was one of the most frustrating traits Alina had ever encountered. And that included Zoya's entire personality.

"It's nothing you've done, Alina. And nothing you can fix."

"I'm the Sun Summoner. You could at least let me try."

A soft chuckle did nothing to ease her uncertainty, or her irritation. "Have I ever mentioned how much I love it when you get up on your Sun Summoner high horse? It's almost enough to make me believe you can do anything."

_Just how big do you think the Shadowfold is?_

"Almost?"

The smile Genya gave her looked completely genuine, and meant nothing. "Even you can't do everything on your own, Alina."

Alina felt her face twist at that, involuntarily. Real concern flickered across Genya's, but Alina waved it away. She might not have been as smooth about it, but two could still play at the secrets game.

They sat in silence for a time, each unsatisfied with the response they had gotten from the other. Alina looked around her beautiful, sumptuous room, and realised it had been a long time since she had seen Genya's.

"You never asked." At Alina's questioning look, Genya tucked a lock of hair perfectly back into place and refused to meet her eyes. "Why I dress like a servant. I know the subject must have come up, but you've never let anyone gossip to you about it. And you kept your promise, not to make me prove anything to you."

It hadn't been hard, doing any of that. And Alina was uncomfortably aware that her reasons weren't entirely altruistic. As time had passed, she'd just sort of - forgotten. People treated Genya with respect, even when Alina wasn't there - no one wanted word to get back to her, after all. Satisfied that her friend was being treated as she ought to be, Alina had let the matter slip from her mind as unimportant.

She was starting to get the impression that that might have been a mistake.

"You didn't seem to want to talk about it," Alina said, which was true. The lilt to Genya's lips said that she knew there was more to it, but mercifully, she didn't bring it up.

"I don't. And the last thing I want is for you to worry about me, all right? Everything is going to be fine."

"Didn't you say things were going to change?"

"Can't they change and be fine, too?"

 _Not with the way you've been acting for the past few month_. Alina rolled that thought over in her mind.

"Is it graduation?" she blurted. "You're almost done, right? Is something going to happen after that?"

Without meaning to, her gaze dropped, taking in the white robe Genya wore so well. But however good it looked, it didn't change what it symbolised, anymore than Alina's own collection of black did.

But what would be the point of making a loyal and powerful Grisha a servant? It didn't make any sense. And Genya _was_ powerful, even if someone like Zoya, or even Ivan, wouldn't think so.

"I certainly hope things happen after it," Genya said airily, and Alina bit back a scream. The moment had escaped her again, and her friend was doing her best impression of a brick wall.

 

**iii.**

It was only later, after everything was all said and done, that it occurred to Alina that Genya had been trying to keep her safe in some small way.

Alina had a legion of guards to see to her physical safety. She was certain at this point that at least one person followed her every time she stepped foot outside of her rooms. The safety of her mind, however, had been left to the Darkling.

Hindsight was a beautiful thing. It became all too clear, later, why Genya might have sought to keep certain information from Alina, even as she struggled along on her own.

But only later.

 

**iv.**

Genya's room was empty.

Alina frowned, feeling the vague stirrings of deja vu. She remembered being eight years old, staring at a similar room stripped bare, probably with the exact same look of consternation on her face. _Didn't you used to have - well, things?_

"She moved."

Zoya's voice behind her was strangely devoid of any particular tone. Usually, the older girl was some variation of smug, or angry. And oh, could she manage variation on those two emotions. But when Alina swung around to glare at her, she was faced with impassiveness, Zoya's arms crossed solidly over her chest.

"What do you mean, she moved? She would have told me."

"You think I'm in a position to comment on whatever goes on between the two of you?" There was the irritation, at least. Zoya's attempt to curb her temper out of deference to the Sun Summoner's dignity always fell flat. "I'm just telling you what happened. She moved. Or _was_ moved, more specifically."

Alina took her own temper by the throat and strangled it. Getting mad back would only satisfy Zoya's need to prove that she could get under her skin. "To the Little Palace?"

Blue eyes glittered strangely as Zoya lifted her chin. Her expression remain unreadable, and for the first time, Alina found herself itching to know what it was that Zoya was thinking The other girl was usually so forthright with her opinions.

"No, Sun Summoner." There was the faintest edge to her title, as though Zoya was trying to make a point. "To the Grand Palace. The Darkling gave her to the Queen."

 

**v.**

Alina had never realised just how short her legs were before.

Which was strange. She could remember countless evenings perched on the edge of a chair, killing her legs in empty air, scuffing them along the floor in later evenings. One would have thought that so much time spent being unable to have her feet firmly on the ground would have made her aware of her lack of height.

One would have thought that those evenings spent alone with the Darkling would have made her realise a lot of things.

Her breath rattled in her chest, drowning out any sounds of shock or confusion that might have happened as she raced through the Grand Palace. She wasn't even sure how she'd gotten there, to be honest, how her short legs had carried her through the trees, along the paths to this unfamiliar place.

 _Genya_. The name pounded in her head in time with her feet slapping the ground. Every hallway in the Grand Palace was austere, alien, nothing like the beautiful warmth of the Little Palace, and Alina hated it on principal. In that moment, she hated everything on principal. Including the Darkling.

Including herself.

Her _oprichniki_ kept pace with her easily. By contrast, their steps were silent, spitting out no names at all. _Sun Summoner_ , they said instead, once she had crashed her way through ten or twelve rooms. _If you tell us what you are looking for, perhaps we can help?_

"Genya," she gasped. "I need to find _Genya_."

"You want to find Genya." The rasping voice was so completely unexpected that it stopped her in her tracks, where guards and strange looks and muttering voices had been unable to. "How many times do I have to tell you, girl? They're two different things."

Alina's heart hammered against the walls of her chest, replacing the sound of her feet. Baghra's voice overrode it anyway, as did the tap of her cane on the floor.

The strange part wasn't that she looked out of place in the cold extravagance of the Grand Palace. The strange part was that she looked like it was exactly where she belonged, the strange, dark beauty of her fitting in right next to the gold and the jewels and everything else.

"What-?" Alina managed finally, uncomprehending.

Baghra snorted, nodding at her hands. "You're leaking, girl. Scared enough people to send a runner to me."

It took a moment for the words to make sense - there was a lag on everything in that moment, as though every bit of information had to push itself through a haze of confusion before it could settle in her mind. _The Darkling gave her to the Queen_.

Alina glanced down at her hands. They glowed, the weak haze echoing whatever was stuffing her brain. "Oh," she said faintly, and clenched her fingers one by one. The light winked out, and she couldn't help but think how fitting that was.

"Come." It wasn't a request. "This isn't the place for such foolishness. The _otkazat'sya_ don't need to see you weak."

 _I'm not weak_ , she wanted to snap, but the words rolled around on her tongue until she swallowed them down again. Meekly, she followed Baghra out of the Grand Palace, past the hedge maze, the temple, the lawns, through the trees until they reached Baghra's hut.

The _oprichniki_ melted away at some point. Alina couldn't decide if she appreciated that, or hated it. It was only an illusion of solitude, after all. They were always there, by order of the Darkling.

"Sit." Baghra pointed imperiously at Alina's usual spot on the floor.

Alina stood.

"He gave Genya to the Queen."

Baghra didn't say anything, didn't even look up to indicate that she'd heard. Alina's fists balled tighter.

"I _said_ -"

"I heard what you said," the woman snapped, easing her body back into her chair. It occurred to Alina that she'd seen her out of it less than she'd seen her in it, and never off the Little Palace grounds.

Not that Alina ever ventured off the Little Palace grounds that often.

"How was I supposed to know that? You didn't exactly do anything to show you'd heard."

"I was trying to decide the best way to tell you that you're an idiot." Baghra's grey eyes reflected the firelight, her expression unreadable. It reminded her, she realised, of Zoya's face not that long ago. "What did you think she was being prepared for? You can't tell me you didn't know she wore servant's colours."

"Of course I knew! But I thought - I thought-"

Baghra cackled, but there was no humour in the sound. "Don't strain yourself, we both know you didn't think about it at all. You accepted it, like a good little Grisha, and didn't question it any further. And now what's done cannot be undone. There's no taking back a gift from a Queen."

"She's not a _gift_ ," Alina spat, and the light in the room jumped.

"She is what the Darkling wants her to be."

"She's not! She's my friend, not someone you can just pass off as a present to someone who doesn't even deserve her! What does the Queen need with a Grisha?"

"Not a Grisha, girl, a Tailor." Dry amusement twisted the woman's voice into something ugly. "Our Queen doesn't possess the kind of power that smoothes away wrinkles. This is something that's been in the works for years. You could have asked about it whenever you wanted, but you decided it wasn't important. Can't really blame you. You're just as much what he wants you to be as the rest of us."

The urge to hit something shot through her arms, and she dug her nails into her palms hard enough that the pain made her suck in a breath.

"I'm not," she said, voice low and quiet. "I'm just me. I'm the Sun Summoner-"

"A name he gave you."

"I'm _Alina_ , then!" she cried. Frustrated tears threatened, but she forced them back, down again. She wasn't a baby any more, and this wasn't a problem she could make better with tears. "There has to be something I can do. He'll listen to me, won't he? I'm supposed to be important to him."

It took a long moment for Alina to recognise the emotion playing in the strange shadows of Baghra's face. She'd never seen the woman wear pity before, and it sat awkwardly on her.

"There's not a person alive who can tell that boy what to do, Alina."

But she shook her head, her hair brushing her shoulders as she did so. The curls that Genya had given her were completely gone by this point, only a soft wave remaining.

"I'll make him listen," she swore. "You'll see."

She left, not long after. It turned out that Baghra didn't have anything to say to that.

 

**vi.**

It was winter before the Darkling returned.

She saw Genya twice within that time. If Alina closed her eyes, she could remember the older girl's warm sigh, the hand on her cheek. _You little idiot_. The tale of her rampage through the halls of the Winter Palace had spread, apparently.

Alina found she didn't care. Rumours that the king himself was displeased with her behaviour filtered down to her, and Alina didn't give a damn. It turned out that with the Darkling gone, there was no one with the power to actually discipline her. She would have listened to Baghra, perhaps, but Saints only knew that Baghra didn't care enough to bother.

"It's not so bad," Genya reassured her, that first time. "The Queen appreciates my services, and it _is_ nice to be able to talk about clothes and hair with someone who thinks they're important."

"I think they're important!" Alina had protested. It had made Genya laugh, at least.

"Not like this, Sun Summoner. You have bigger things to worry about."

 _Like you_ , Alina had thought, but didn't say. If Genya had found some tenuous sort of peace with herself and what had happened, Alina didn't want to shatter it, even if she seethed internally with guilt and the unfairness of it all. She might even have let it sit, if it hadn't been for the second time she'd seen her.

It hadn't even been to visit. Alina had gone to one of the workrooms to find David - the material of her gloves was starting to wear through. But the first thing she'd seen when she'd stepped through the door was Genya, sitting silently on a stool near the doorway.

She looked stunning. Her hair was twisted up in an intricate knot, a few loose tendrils escaping to grace her slender neck. The white and gold of her clothes fell perfectly off every curve. As she jumped in quiet shock, the light caught her heavy diamond earrings as they swung.

"Genya?" Alina shut the door behind her, approaching slowly. "This is a little overdone for the Durasts, don't you think?"

"Oh," Genya said, and her rich voice was warm and sweet. She didn't look at Alina. "You know. Sometimes you just feel like dressing up."

Absently, she toyed with one of the earrings. Alina had never seen them before.

"Of course," she said slowly, wondering if she should reach out for the other girl, put an arm around her shoulders or something. Genya was staring steadfastly at nothing in particular. "Did the Queen give you those? The earrings?"

Genya tugged her hand away as though she'd been burnt. "Excuse me, darling," she murmured. Her stool scraped uncomfortably along the floor as she stood, and swept towards the door. "There's work I should be getting back to."

And before Alina could question her further, she was gone.

 

**vii.**

She didn't knock.

The _oprichniki_ have instructions to let her do what she wants anyway, and although they both looked extremely uncomfortable about it, neither one of them stopped her from pushing open the heavy double doors.

She'd picked her dress carefully, and her heart had ached for Genya as she did it. She heard her friend's voice in her head as she picked through her wardrobe, guiding her choices for the effect she wanted to achieve.

She almost, _almost_ went to find something that wasn't black. But that was where her anger hit the wall of her affection, and she couldn't do it. Alina was mad, yes, but she didn't hate the Darkling. She wasn't about to reject him, or anything he'd done for her.

Instead, she picked out the closest thing to a real _kefta_ that she own, embroidered in gold. Once satisfied that she didn't look like a child playing dress up, she had crossed the hall to the Darkling's rooms.

Every head in the room snapped up when she entered, even his. Before he could speak, though, she was pointing at the door.

"Out."

Alina had spent five years watching the Darkling. She hadn't seen him at his worst, but she had made up for that by seeing more of him than anyone else. So when she spoke - when she gave her _order_ \- it wasn't hard to infuse it with the same authority and expectation of being obeyed that the Darkling did.

She might have only been thirteen, but half of the Grisha in the room were on their feet before any of them thought to look at him for permission.

There was a moment of complete silence, as the Darkling let them sweat it out. And then he tilted his head slightly, indicating the door.

"You heard the Sun Summoner."

The tiniest bit of relief eased the tension in her chest, and Alina wrestled with it internally to keep it from showing externally as the Grisha filed out. Ivan was amongst them, she noted, and it was harder than it should have been to ignore his presence.

She managed it, though. She managed all of it, staying stock still and immovable until the last Grisha was gone, and the doors shut tightly behind her.

"How can I help you, _solntse_?"

 _Don't call me that_ , she wanted to cry, but the lesson he had given her the last time she had made that kind of protest was still bright in her mind.

"You gave," she started, and was proud of the way her voice didn't shake, "Genya away. To the Queen. Like she was a piece of property you could sign over to someone."

The way he regarded her made Alina want to hit him. Or worse. Lash out with her power until he understood the ugly, festering wound that had ulcerated her stomach. She tucked her hands behind her back, squeezing the fingers into fists.

"Yes," he said finally.

" _Yes?_ That's _it_?"

The Darkling folded his hands neatly on the table in front of him, seemingly unbothered by her sudden display of temper. "We all make sacrifices. Genya has known this was coming for some time. I...would have thought you were aware of it, too."

Alina didn't flinch at the careful, casual note to his voice, the one that implied exactly what Baghra had told her outright. She had had weeks and weeks and weeks to ruminate on her own guilt already, her failure as a friend. It was that feeling that she had taken inside her, forged into weapon and armour both. It was that feeling she wielded now, and so he couldn't use it against her.

"Do we? What are you sacrificing, then? What am _I_ sacrificing? If we all have to make them, maybe you should just hand me over to the King now! He can have me directly, instead of this farce you've set up with his wife!"

 

**viii.**

Alina had asked.

She hadn't wanted to. Moreover, she had known that Genya wouldn't have wanted her to. Genya, her best and only real friend, who had played her cards and her feelings so close to her chest for five years now because she had known this was coming. Genya, who protected herself with words and smiles and pretending that everything was just fine. Genya, who had tried so very hard to protect _Alina_ in just the same way.

Some things, Alina didn't deserve to be protected from. And so she had asked Zoya what it meant that Genya wore diamond earrings when she had no means of acquiring them, and Zoya had told her.

Some part of Alina had noted the lack of relish in the girl's voice when she told her the gifts came from the King. Perhaps some part of Zoya had realised that her pretty face would be less pretty covered in burn scars, or perhaps there was something else going on inside that complicated skull of hers. Alina hadn't stuck around to find out.

 

**ix.**

The Darkling stood. Sudden and smooth and silent, with barely a rustle of clothing.

"You are not," and his voice was a knife, cold steel parting the air, "nor will you ever be, for the King."

Alina ignored the danger signs, brave for Genya in a way she had never been for herself. "Really? Then who have I been promised to? The Apparat, maybe, I've heard that he's gaining the King's ear. The priest with his pet Sun Summoner, that would be a tale for the ages."

His sigh washed over her. The weight of that disappointment was crushing, and she felt her rage wilt under the pressure of it. But the image of Genya jerked her hand away from her ear shored it up again, and as the Darkling's hand curled gently under her chin to tilt her head up, she set her jaw and stared him down.

"You are a child," he murmured. She clenched her teeth against the string of the rebuke, but the tears didn't come like they might have done once; she considered that a victory. "You cannot begin to imagine the depth of the game we play here, yet. You see only the pieces, and not the board."

A tremble wracked her body at the thought of what she was about to say. It took her a moment, two before she could convince herself to say it, to make her tongue form the letters.

"Don't. Touch me."

She didn't push his hand away, didn't shove at him, or even move her chin. She simply stared up at him, and waited for him to move his hand.

He almost didn't. Alina could see it in his eyes, that quartz gaze somehow clearer to her now than it had ever been. Where before she had always seen a stranger, now she recognised that it was still the Darkling peering out at her from behind that icy, inhuman stare.

It terrified her. She wanted to curl up and cry, to throw herself at him and beg his forgiveness. But none of those things would help Genya, so she stayed exactly where she was.

Eventually, the Darkling pulled his hand away.

"Perhaps I have left you without guidance for too long," he murmured.

The sneer that twisted her face was an ugly, frightened thing. "You mean because I'm disagreeing with you, don't you. Because I think what you did was _sick_ , not necessary, I've somehow lost my way? What is _wrong_ with you?"

Anger stole his features. Real, sudden anger that seemed to be almost as much of a surprise to him as it was to Alina. She was too shocked to be scared in the face of it, of the way it broke across his beautiful face like a wave crashing into the rocks.

"The problem is not with me. The sickness is within Ravka, and it cannot be bludgeoned out. It has to be excised, treated, healed. Genya is a soldier as much as you, or I, or any other Grisha. You are not so quick to defend her as you think. She has already been to see me, and I have already told her that if she wishes it, I will remove her from her position. She refused."

 _If she refused, then why did she go to see you about it in the first place?_ "I'm not a soldier," she reminded him hollowly. "I'm a child. If it means not sacrificing someone like Genya to someone like the King for the sake of a _game_ , then I'll stay that way."

"For the sake of Ravka."

"I don't care about Ravka!" That was a lie, but it felt like the truth when she said it. "I care about protecting my friends. And if you cared about me at all, you'd find another piece to move on whatever board is so important here."

It was a low trick, a manipulative one, and she used it anyway because she didn't know what else she could say to make him change his mind. She didn't know how to _fix_ this.

Baghra's pitying face came to mind. _There's not a person alive who can tell that boy what to do, Alina._

She had thought she was different. She had thought he would at least listen to her, that her feelings of outrage and disgust would have some kind of impact on his decision making. But she only had to look at his face one to see just how unmoveable he truly was.

Without a further word, she turned on her heel and went to leave.

"Alina."

The name shot through her like a bolt out of the blue, rooting her to the spot. It was the first time he had ever used her name, at least that she could remember. If she thought she had stooped low, _he_ was scraping the bottom of the barrel now. Hot rage rushed into the hollow places her shock vacated, and she whipped back around, bringing her hand down in a sharp, instictive motion.

" _No!_ " A wave of heat billowed out from her, rushing over the Darkling. It was enough to make the air waver between them, and she thought she saw beads of sweat form on his forehead, but there was no actual damage. Alina couldn't decide if that was a problem for her or not. "I know what you're doing! You can't just use my name to tug on my feelings and make me stay. You're _wrong_ , Darkling, and there's nothing you can say or do to change my mind."

Alina didn't know if that was true. So she left, before he could recover from her actions enough for them to find out.


	11. Chapter 11

**interlude.**

The boy had a scar over his heart three inches wide.

He was lucky, he had been told. He had broken only one leg, and the knife had dragged across his skin, instead of piercing into it. Ana Kuya told him that he was unlikely to be so lucky again, and that he should stop giving the younger children fool ideas.

The boy took his survival as proof that no matter how stupid a thing he took it into his head to do, he would probably come out the other side. His fool ideas did not stop, but no matter how many times Ana Kuya threatened to expel him from Keramzin, she never went through with it.

The boy was strong. Charming, too, with an easy grin that hid all kinds of darkness. He had learnt to talk himself out of trouble by getting into it, with no one to hold him back or help him along. He helped the younger children, but the older ones, those who had grown up alongside him, they tended to avoid him.

There was something strange about Malyen Oretsev, they said. The boy was always ready to talk, except when he wasn't. Except when he would go off by himself into the nearby forests, be gone for days at a time. He always came back with game, and a look in his eyes that said he was missing a part of him.

As the years passed, some began to notice a pattern to these disappearances. Keramzin was set well away from anything interesting whatsoever, and yet the news filtered - as news did - through to them nonetheless.

And what interesting news it was. Tales of a Sun Summoner, stories that no one believed at first, but that persisted so strongly throughout the years that most couldn't help but cling to some sort of hope. She had caused crops to grow in dark, barren lands, some said. She had saved the King from a Fjerdan assassin. She had gone to the Shu Han border with the Darkling and wiped out an entire raiding party with a single flare of light.

Ravka was saved.

The boy disagreed, although never out loud. The Sun Summoner was a pale and sickly eight year old girl, and he was still called to join the First Army once he turned sixteen. Ravka was Ravka, and Ravka had no love for orphans.

 

**summer, in the year of alina starkov's sixteenth birthday**

 

**i.**

Alina's breath came sharp in her chest as she bared her teeth in a grin at her last opponent. Scattered, groaning bodies lay at her feet, and she stepped over and around them carefully as she circled, gloved hands held defensively in front of her.

"You look like a barbarian when you do that," Zoya complained. The older girl's hair was sweat-slicked, her face flushed, chest heaving in the same way as Alina's. The difference between them was that Alina was her only opponent. The defeated students dragging themselves out of the training ring all belonged to the Sun Summoner.

"Scared?" Alina panted, circling one mirrored hand. Zoya scowled - which had the effect of making her eyes squint against the sudden sparkle of light at the same time, of course.

"Not on your life."

The sudden gust of wind was sharp enough to hurt, but Alina grabbed the pain and used it as a focus, drawing on the light streaming in from the wide windows all around them. She laughed at the way Zoya cursed when her wave of heat hit the older girl, sending her staggering back. Her black hair, previously soaked through, frizzed out.

" _Alina Starkov_."

"Shows you for being so shallow, Zoya," Alina taunted back, and this time managed to dance out of the way of the next gust of wind. She flexed her wrist again, sending light cascading out across the room in a dizzying stream. Before she could follow up with an actual attack, though, Nadia crashed into the room.

"He's returning!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "His retinue has been seen approaching the city!"

Abruptly, Alina's good mood drained away. She stared at Nadia until the other girl flushed bright red, trying to make sense of the sentence. There was only one person _he_ could refer to, and _he_ hadn't written to inform her of his impending arrival.

Neither had Ivan.

"What." Ignoring Zoya, she stripped off her gloves, striding across the ring until she was across from Nadia. "Who told you this?"

The other girl's wide eyes skittered nervously away, not quite meeting Alina's. She bit back a frustrated sigh, and tried to make herself look less - powerful. Having poured years into looking the exact opposite, it wasn't a skill she had studied all that diligently.

"One of the servants was visiting her sister in the Grand Palace, and heard it from the messenger he sent ahead. They're expected here within the hour."

Alina felt Zoya's shadow sifting through the light, although the other girl managed to move silently until she was standing at her shoulder. "But it's summer."

In the face of not one, but two of the most powerful students still studying at the Grisha school, Nadia appeared to lose her ability to speak. Her mouth opened, certainly, but the only sound that came out was a squeak.

Zoya rolled her eyes, but Alina reached out and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, taking her own unease and shoving it into a mental corner somewhere.

"Sorry. You just surprised me, that's all." Her gaze slid over to Zoya, who hadn't stepped out of the ring yet, but looked very much like she wanted to. "Concede?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"It was worth a try." Alina stepped out of the ring, technically losing the round. Once, that might have bothered her. Now, all she could think about was the fact that she only had an hour to get ready, and she was _completely_ drenched in sweat.

 

**ii.**

It was almost entirely impossible to get anywhere fast, and still look dignified about it. The Little Palace was more used to seeing Alina rushing through the place, and half the servants there had watched her grow up, but - _but_. She was trying to have some decorum lately. She had a point to prove.

Not that walking with purpose instead of hurling her body through the corridors was really going to help with that, but she didn't think she'd seen the Darkling move at anything faster than a stroll in the nearly eight years she had known him. Some things, she was willing to follow his example in.

Once the door to her rooms was shut securely, however, it was a whole other story. Alina practically ran across her receiving room, leaving a trail of clothes behind her as she shoved open her bedroom door. She was shirtless and hopping out of her black trousers before she noticed that she wasn't alone.

"I can come back," an amused voice hummed. "If now is a bad time for you, that is."

" _Genya!_ "

Urgency - and her state of undress - momentarily forgotten, Alina just about tripped over herself on her way to hug her friend. It had been too long since the older girl had had the free time to visit, and Alina clung to her a little tighter than necessary despite herself.

Despite Genya, too. The older girl put up with the hug as long as she could stand it, before gently disengaging from Alina. Alina, who wasn't one for physical demonstration most of the time anyway, let her do it.

"The Queen-?"

"Heard the Darkling was returning, and was afflicted with a sudden migraine." Genya rolled her eyes. "I have _no_ idea where she got the idea that he would spare even a second of thought to her well-being, but I imagine she'll be out of commission until her sense returns to her. So this evening, at least."

Alina pulled a face, allowing Genya to place a soft hand on the small of her back, steering her towards the bathroom attached to her bedroom. "She's awful."

"Some things go without saying," Genya breezed, leaning over to run the water. Alina shoved her hand away, scowling as she twisted the taps herself.

The sound of running water covered the abruptly awkward silence, both girls doing their best not to think about what other things went unsaid, or why it was that Alina was so very insistent on running her own bath. They had never been equals - there was only one other person in the world who was Alina's equal - but the past two and a half years had only served to hammer that fact home far harder than anyone reasonable would consider necessary.

Alina was not, she had noticed, surrounded by reasonable people.

"It's going to run over," Genya pointed out quietly, and Alina cursed, shutting off the water with a slam of her fist.

" _Ow._ "

That earned her a sigh, and another eyeroll. "Get in the water before you do any more damage to yourself, darling," Genya insisted. One of her hands lifted towards Alina, as though she were about to help her finish undressing.

The black look on Alina's face stopped her, and the Sun Summoner struggled out of her workout gear on her own power.

"You will at _least_ let me do your hair, won't you?" Genya complained, as Alina dropped her body into the water with a splash. A faint shriek of dismay escaped the older girl's lips, and she narrowed her eyes at Alina. " _That_ was mature."

"When have I ever been able to stop you from doing what you like with my hair?" Alina said. They both ignored the knowledge that Alina could make her do whatever she felt like with a few words.

Genya's firm fingers dragging over her scalp were a relief, easing the tension that had built up behind her skull since Nadia had interrupted with her news. Alina couldn't deny that she was excited, of course, but...

"It's summer," she murmured, as Genya washed something floral smelling out of her hair.

"You're worried?"

"He usually writes if he plans on being somewhere unexpectedly. So either something has happened, or this is one of his little tests."

The pause that preceded Genya's little laugh was too long to be natural. "What an ego! Who's to say it has anything to do with you at all, Sun Summoner?"

Alina snorted, allowing her friend to help her out of the water. "Past experience. It always has to do with me, Genya."

She wished she could deny the quiet thrill that even saying the words herself gave her, but there was no lying to herself. Being the focus of a man like the Darkling could be equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

And frustrating, she allowed, as Genya steered her into the stool opposite her mirror and began to play with her hair. Alina closed her eyes and let her do what she wanted, trusting the other girl absolutely.

At least, until she heard the rattle of jewelled hairpins. "Oh, no you don't. That's too far."

Genya's face was the picture of devastation. " _Alina._ Do you know how often I get to play with hair like yours? All the jewels in the world couldn't enhance the Queen's stringy blonde, but for you-"

"I am _not_ dressing up for someone else like I would for a ball."

"Who said anything about dressing for someone else? You're perfectly entitled to wear jewels in your hair for yourself."

Alina couldn't help the way her gaze flickered to Genya's throat and the heavy sapphire necklace settled between delicate collarbones. Genya did them both the favour of pretending not to notice.

"No jewels," Alina said, firmly.

Genya slid a single, diamond encrusted pin into her thick locks anyway, pulling half of her hair back off her face. "You are no fun."

"Wait until the winter fete. You can put all the jewels you like wherever you like, then. I promise."

That earned her a soft laugh, and a kiss on the cheek. "I was going to do that anyway. Now, make up-"

" _No._ "

 

**iii.**

Alina forced herself to walk sedately. The trip wasn't far, after all - it wasn't like rushing would get her there appreciably faster. And the last thing she wanted to do was look too eager. It had only been something like four months since she'd seen him, and they had written in that time.

Even if he hadn't told her about his early return.

She caught sight of her reflection in a nearby window, and couldn't help but check her appearance one final time. Genya had lost the battle regarding make up, but Alina suspected it was only because she was still bright and flushed from her workout earlier that day, the remnants of her power singing through her skin.

Genya had told her once that she had the looks to carry it, and Alina had to agree. She wasn't classically beautiful like her friend, or possessed of the same alluring qualities as someone like Zoya. Once, that might have bothered her. Now, she simply examined the proud line of her jaw, the stark colour of her eyes against skin that remained pale, but no longer sickly.

The word was striking. Alina grinned at her reflection, and swept towards the door. As she did with any place she wanted to go these days, there was no warning knock.

Which was how she ended up walking in on Ivan just as he was pulling an undershirt up over his head.

 _Don't blush_ , Alina told herself forcefully, shutting the door behind her and leaning back against it. _Don't blush don't blush don't blush._

She was smirking by the time Ivan jerked his head over to her, mouth open like he was about to chew out an intruder for daring to interrupt him.

"I can go," she offered, focussing steadfastly on his face. The urge to let her eyes dip lower, run the lines of his torso, was definitely there. But brazen wasn't her style, if only because it was definitely Zoya's. "If now is a bad time."

His lips quirked up, easing away lines of tension and anger. "Sun Summoner." He tugged the shirt back down. "You're looking...well."

The way his gaze flickered over her form left no doubts as to just how _well_ he thought she looked. Alina took a moment to bask in the attention, saying nothing. There were few people in her life with the self-confidence to think they had any right to check out the Sun Summoner.

"I just kicked Zoya's ass in training," she said finally, pushing off the door. His eyes followed her as she moved, and she felt her smirk widen. Just a little bit. "That's enough to make anyone glow."

"You don't need the help."

Internally, her stomach gave a triumphant little flip. She'd had what might be termed an _appreciation_ for Ivan since she had been twelve or so, but it had only been on his last trip to Os Alta that she thought he might have started noticing that. Noticing her, as more than just one of the people he'd put his hopes for revenge in.

"That's cute," she said out loud, teasing. She could do this, really. She was the Sun Summoner; she could turn full grown men to ash if she wanted. Theoretically, at least. Flirting was nothing. "Have you been practicing your niceness, Ivan?"

"I've been accused of a lot of things. Nice isn't one of them."

Her breath caught. She couldn't help it, not with that weight in his words, the _implications_. It occurred to Alina that she might have been slightly out of her depth. She loved it.

"So I can assume that now _is_ a good time, then?"

He snorted, and Alina resumed proper breathing technique.

"Isn't any time good, when it's the Sun Summoner visiting?"

"I do still have a name. I know you know what it is."

She sighed, the bare skin of her upper arm just brushing his as she moved past him. The rooms set aside for Ivan were bare, spartan. It could have been because he was rarely in them, but Alina thought it was more likely a reflection of the owner's tastes.

His hand twitched, like he wanted to take a hold of her arm. But even Ivan wasn't that forward; she rewarded his restraint with the faintest touch of her fingers over his palm, before she took a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Alina," he said, not turning to look at her, and there was a deeper edge to his voice that abruptly made all of her teasing arrogance fall away. She dropped her gaze, staring down at his hand, which had curled into a loose fist.

"I missed you," she admitted softly, making herself vulnerable. The Darkling, she was sure, would have disapproved.

But the Darkling was a force of nature, and he used power in a different way. Being vulnerable would have made him weak. For Alina, it was just another way of getting what she wanted.

Plus, she really had missed him. She wasn't lying about that.

She watched the sudden tension in Ivan's broad shoulders unwind, the muscles shifting back into place as he turned around. Tugging her feet up so she could rest her chin on her knees, she shed the Sun Summoner like a second skin, and became Alina. A Grisha trainee with a crush.

"My brother said that you have written to him many times over the campaign season."

"Your brother isn't stationed in the far flung reaches of Ravka, where half of the couriers are too terrified to go," Alina pointed out. "I write to you when I write to the Darkling."

That seemed to mollify him, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Boys_ , honestly.

He sat down next to her, barely an inch of space stopping their legs from brushing together. Alina the girl felt a powerful urge to rest her head on his shoulder, but Alina the Sun Summoner couldn't let herself be _that_ vulnerable.

Maybe she was more like the Darkling than she preferred to think

She rested her head on her knees instead, twisting it to look over at him. There must have been something appealing about the image, because he was smiling at her.

"Why are you back early?"

The smile disappeared. "You haven't spoken to the Darkling about that?"

"I haven't spoken to the Darkling at all yet. I came to see you first."

She felt him stiffen next to her, and his voice was overly casual when he chose to speak again. A frown of her own creased her forehead.

"You should go and do that. I'm sure he wants to see you."

"I'm sure he does. I'm less sure what that has to do with where I am right now."

" _Alina."_ His voice was a growl, and this time he did dare to grab her wrist, dark eyes boring into hers. "You can't just deny the Darkling what he wants. Even you."

It took Ivan a few seconds to realise that the place he was gripping her had started to heat up. He held on for a second or two, but as Alina kept staring at him, he seemed to realise that she wasn't about to stop. He cursed, shaking his hand out as he let go.

Alina spoke as though nothing had happened. "I don't exist to fulfill the Darkling's wants. He doesn't control me."

Genya would have disagreed. Genya would have given her a sad smile and a kiss on the cheek, and murmured _he controls us all, Alina_.

Ivan was more direct. "Maybe not. But you're the only one who can say that."

The implication filled the silence. She forgot, sometimes. The Darkling's touched lingered on every person in the Little Palace, and there were few who escaped his grasp. She had never doubted that everything he did had Ravka at the core of it. But she was also well aware that any gentleness she had seen from him was more than matched by ruthlessness.

Alina stood.

"I will see you, then."

Tension unspooled from the set of her shoulders. Her mood put off, she didn't bother eyeing them.

"If you think I'd have it any other way, you've underestimated me."

That made her laugh, tipping her head back as she reached for the door. "Ivan, I don't underestimate anyone these days." She felt the smile crease her cheeks as she looked back at him. "I have your measure exactly. Think about that."

 

**iv.**

It had been nearly three years, and Alina still had to convince herself not to knock.

It was her own quiet rebellion. The Darkling might have refused to listen to her, refused to grant any of her serious requests, but he couldn't make her announce herself before she visited.

He could, however, make her stare at the door for a few minutes and argue with herself before she pushed it open.

To find the room empty.

Alina suppressed a groan. This was always the worst part. Sitting and waiting for him meant that she had been brave enough to enter, but not brave enough to find him. Pushing open the doors to his private rooms, though...well. That meant pushing open the doors to his private rooms. Alina had grown a lot, but she was seldom that brave.

She was, however, more frequently annoyed. The Darkling's _Darklingness_ had meant cutting short her reunion with Ivan. Which mean that, whatever he was doing, she was going to cut that short too. Steeling herself, she set her hand onto the doors, and eased them open.

"You're back earlier than expected," she announced around the hard lump of anxiety in her throat. It wasn't like could greet him by name, and she refused to say _moi soverenyi_. Ever.

His body was angled away from her, glad - as always - in black. Alina found herself watching him more carefully than usual, taking in the sight of him. Whatever their differences the past few years, she'd found that it was always difficult being parted so long. He was the cornerstone of her life - the main thing, other than Baghra, that gave it any stability.

And the only thing that gave her purpose. So she fell silent and simply watched, as pale, slender hands scraped loose hair back off his face, securing it in a tie. Only when he was done, did he turn.

"Alina." He lingered over the syllables in the same way he always did. Every time he said her name, she remembered the way he had called after her, asking her to stay. Every time, she remembered leaving. Guilt and pride pricked her in equal measure; she was mostly sure that was his intention.

Some of his hair had fallen out of the tie already, the shorter locks sliding across his face. Only this man, she thought, could make looking so dishevelled seem professional.

Alina swallowed, finding that she had to fight a blush now in the same way she had when interrupting Ivan. _Maybe I should rethink barging in on people so much_.

"That's it?" she demanded. "Four months, and it's just 'Alina'." She pitched her voice lower than his, mocking.

His head ducked slightly, those loose locks tipping forward. Alina tucked her hands behind her back to still the sudden itching in her fingers. He was laughing at her, she _knew_ it.

"Four months, and all _I_ get is 'you're early'? Of the two of us, I am not the cutting one, here."

She barked her own laugh, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it in much the same way she had with Ivan. " _That's_ rich."

He raised an eyebrow back at her, and that was definitely a glint of amusement behind quartz grey eyes. Alina felt the tension in the back of her neck slowly ease, the way it always did once months worth of pent up anxiety was able to disperse. It was too easy to focus on the part of the Darkling she didn't like when he was gone.

"The way you speak to me," he murmured. "I'm almost worried you have no respect left."

"When you say almost, you mean not at all."

He chuckled, and Alina felt a warm glow settle in her chest. "Why do I bother to speak at all, when you can apparently read my mind?"

"To tell me why you're back in Os Alta so early?"

"Ah." Absently, he brushed one of those loose pieces of hair back off his face. The itching in Alina's fingers intensified. "You aren't going to let that go."

"You didn't even write to tell me you were coming." She did her best to keep the accusation out of her voice. "You're supposed to be keeping me in your confidence."

That was laughable, but it was still one of the things they had agreed upon in order to get her to start talking to him again when she was thirteen. He had promised not to keep things of that magnitude from him, and she had pretended to believe him.

Actually, she had pretended to believe Genya, who had spoken on the Darkling's behalf when Alina refused to see him. It was less the promise that had convinced her, and more the fact that he had respected her wish not to deal with him. That, and the fact that Genya had been willing to speak on his behalf at all, after what he had caused to happen.

Still, Alina was well aware that, despite the talks on politics and army manoeuvres they had had in past years, there were still things he kept from her. And every now and then, she threw that in his face.

Which was, as always, unflappable.

"I am," he agreed simply. "Which is why I have decided to take you on campaign with me."


	12. Chapter 12

**i.**

"You knew," Alina accused, striding across the space of the small hut to snatch a book off a rickety shelf.

"I know most things, Alina. Be more specific," Baghra snapped, reclining in her chair. Sharp eyes watched Alina's every movement; after eight years, she still hadn't figured out what the old woman was looking for.

"If you know most things, shouldn't you also know what I'm talking about?"

Those gray eyes simply fixed her with a look. She grinned, cracking open the spine of the book, and finding where she had left off last time.

"You knew that he was going to take me on campaign. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you would act like a giddy school girl. I put up with enough nonsense, without you adding to it."

"You don't think I should be excited? This is what I've wanted for years. You're the one who warned me that I would be leading troops one day, isn't actually seeing troops a part of that?"

"I think you're an idiot if you believe this is a reward, or that you've reached some kind of accord. The Darkling isn't known for giving in, even to girls who persist long past the time they should."

That dimmed her enthusiasm. Not because Baghra had chastised her - Baghra did nothing but chastise her. But because the older woman was right. She remembered her conversation with Genya the other day - either something has happened, or it is one of his little tests.

Nothing had happened on the frontier to force him back. Just because the reason had turned out to be something that Alina had been hounding the Darkling about since she was fourteen, didn't mean that it wasn't also a test.

"You ruin everything, you know that, Baghra?"

The old woman cackled, but the tone was dry and bitter. "I know, girl. Now pick up where you left off, I don't have all day."

Alina drew her finger down the text, mind running over the words. Her lips parted to start reading, but something else came out instead.

"He doesn't...know?"

Silence. And then Baghra sighed. "I don't keep your secrets. But if he knows, it's not because I've told him."

"Right." She swallowed. Baghra wouldn't lie if asked directly, but quite obviously, she also hadn't brought the matter of her power reach up with the Darkling, either.

Alina wasn't embarrassed that she had reached her limit. Sooner or later, the Darkling would have to be told, she knew that.

She just preferred that it be later.

 

**ii.**

When she returned to her rooms, she found Genya directing a fleet of servants around her belongings. It's a strange sort of power her friend possesses, Alina decides. Most viewed her only as a servant, and yet here she was, taking casual ownership of everything in the Sun Summoner's room.

"You don't have to-"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm going to give you a pig nose."

Alina pulled a face at her, perching on the edge of her bed instead and watching the servants prepare her belongings for travel.

"I've organised your clothes - exactly none of those dresses were suited for travel, so you know. The Darkling said your accommodations have been seen to, so try to act surprised when he presents you with a small palace instead of a tent."

"Of course," Alina sighed. "How else would people know I'm the Sun Summoner? It's not as though we're going on campaign as _Grisha_ , to _use our powers_ against Ravka's enemies."

Genya stilled, midway through folding what looked like a pair of breeches. Alina could only see the older girl's back from the angle she was sitting, but that was enough to see the stiff, tense lines of her muscles. Biting her back on the urge to ask if she was all right - fine, the answer was always fine - she simply stayed where she was, and waited.

Finally, Genya set the pants aside. The folds of her white _kefta_ barely whispered as she swept towards Alina, gentle fingers cupping her cheeks. "You are not to die, do you understand me?"

Alina's lips parted, eyes wide. Of all the things she'd expected her friend to come up with, that hadn't been one of them. Trying for a smile, she gave a gentle tug of Genya's wrists, pulling them away.

"Come on, Genya. I'm the-"

"You could be the Darkling himself, I don't care." Her sweet, rich voice was uncharacteristically fierce. And yet, it suited her, in some strange kind of way. "No matter what he requires of you, no matter how you need to show off to satisfy the masses, you are _not_ to die. Promise me."

The Darkling wouldn't risk her on any manoeuvre that might prove too deadly, Alina thought, but she kept that one to herself. Genya didn't need logic, right now. She needed reassurance. Alina wound her fingers around the older girl's, rubbing her thumbs over the back of her hands.

"I promise-" She dropped a soft kiss on the knuckles of one, "that I won't die." She kissed the other. "No stupid risks here."

Genya's shoulders slumped. They both knew, Alina thought, that the promise was one easily broken, and impossible to keep in the end. But it was still a comfort to her friend, and that was the only important thing.

"Good!" The fierce note dropped from Genya's tone, and she returned to the pants. "As I said, your dresses weren't suited for travel at all, but I _did_ have one or two made up that should still turn heads. Heads belonging to certain _Corporalki."_ Genya threw her a grin. "Ivan's head."

Alina choked. "I am _not_ dressing up for Ivan."

"You dressed up for Ivan quite literally yesterday."

"I didn't - I had just finished a training session! I was making myself _presentable_. In general."

"Oh, of course. Because Ivan has never seen a sweaty girl before. He's never seen _you_ after a training session. Never-"

"Stop. I'm not listening." Alina took the very mature course of action, and placed her hands over her ears. "I'm going on this excursion to get practical experience about how the Second Army works, and that's all."

Genya winked. As she turned her head, the ruby drops at her ears winked as well. "Everything else is just a bonus, right?"

"I refuse to speak with you any longer."

 

**iii.**

She rode next to the Darkling at the head of the column, surrounded by a veritable - well, army of _Corporalki_.

And, because Genya's words had fixed the thought in her head, she _did_ notice that Ivan was amongst them. And perhaps the thought pleased her, but if she was honest? There was too much else to focus on as they left the hulking figure of Os Alta behind them. She could think about Ivan any time she felt like it.

But this was the first time in eight years that she had left the city.

"As we approach the border," the Darkling murmured to her, "you will ride in the carriage."

He wasn't looking at her, quartz gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. But he was taking in her every reaction nonetheless, the way her head twisted around to take in every sight she could, the roads and the fields and the people working them. There was no stopping the grin from stretching her face, even in the face of his dampened spirit.

"Has anyone ever called you a killjoy, I wonder," she mused out loud. "Because you are one."

His gaze stayed where it was, but she caught the twitch of his lips anyway. "Better me a killjoy than you dead, Alina."

" _Killjoy_."

She appreciated his concern, she did, but this conversation was a symptom of the greater tension in their relationship over the past few years. He had trained her to do damage - truly massive damage, if need be - and yet he had refused to let her use it.

Not that Alina was eager to start killing people. But she was eager to prove herself worthy of the name Sun Summoner, to show Ravka and the world that this country would soon be led into a new light.

"Isn't putting me in the carriage sort of like painting a giant target on my back?" she continued.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she might have seen Ivan stiffen. She smiled to herself, before returning her full attention to the Darkling. Or - most of it, at least. A part of it was taken up with the horse under her, and how uncomfortable it was turning out to ride for more than an hour or two at a time.

"No more than having you ride up the front with me," he pointed out. "And if you are in the carriage, any arrows fired will go through it, and not you."

"Then why are you allowing me to ride up the front?"

"Because the chances of getting attacked in the heart of Ravka are slim, and it does the Second Army good to see you alongside me." His eyes did flicker to her then, only for an instant before he was looking at the road again. "Besides. I like having you up here."

"...Oh."

If Ivan had said something like that to her, Alina was sure she would have blushed, even with the extensive aura of self-assurance she carried around these days. With the Darkling, her skin stayed pale, her mind cautiously skirting any possible meaning except the simplest one in those words.

You did not go there with the Darkling. No matter how itchy your fingers got in the face of his fringe.

 

**iv.**

She rode in the carriage without argument, and wondered if it was because of that that the Darkling decided to join her. But that was ridiculous. It was his carriage, after all, with his emblem painted on the side. He had to use it for his own reasons all the time.

"Tell me." He had his elbow resting on the door, chin in his palm as he gazed out at the passing countryside. "What do you think of our fair land?"

The dry twist to his mouth told her what he expected to hear, but she leaned to look out her own window anyway. The burn of summer had passed soon after her birthday, so the day was pleasant, the sun caressing the fields as the carriage trundled on.

The fields, which should have shown a greater yield. Alina frowned. She had noticed the people working them earlier, of course, but it was only now that she noticed how few were actually there. And most of them, women.

"Where are all the able-bodied men?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.

"The King's wars take their toll. You know that."

She felt her jaw tighten at the mention of the king from this man. It was an instantaneous reaction, like thinking about him saying her name for the first time. She opened and shut her mouth once or twice, trying to loosen it again.

"And that is why Genya is a soldier, right?"

The words spilled out of her before she could help it. She wasn't looking at him, but she could feel the way he stilled anyway, and had to give her reflection in the glass window a dry smile of her own at having surprised him.

"It is why we are all soldiers, Alina."

Of course. She sat back heavily in her seat, the movement making her arm brush up against the Darkling's side. It was a second or two before she wriggled over, resting against the side of the carriage instead.

They sat in silence for so long, she started to wonder if that was a test, too. Perhaps he wanted to see how long it took her to start babbling nonsense in order to smother any potential awkwardness between them. Watching the countryside, she found they were going slow enough that she could distinguish the children from the adults.

"If I am a soldier," she said finally, borrowing from that same soft, deadly tone he utilised when he wanted to get his own way, "then you have to let me fight. I won't be just a figurehead, you know."

"The last thing I want from you is to be a figurehead," he replied, the notes of his voice just as soft, but stripped of the death. She felt soothed, even though she didn't want to be. "That has never been my plan for you."

The plan. How could she have forgotten, when he had given her such a detailed explanation of _nothing whatsoever_.

"Then why have I not been included in the meetings with your _Corporalki_? Where is the plan for me to be included in potential assaults, or defensive formations? Most of these Grisha I have never trained with, they don't even know my cues!"

She watched him, watched the satisfied smile that spread across his mouth, looked away and watched her own fingers curl into fists in her lap.

"Very good," he murmured, and she considered hitting him.

"Another test, Darkling?"

He tried to hide it, but his head twitched into a startled glance her way. She rarely referred to him by any name at all.

"If I do not test you, the world will. And it will not be so kind. I am trying to prepare you, in the best way I can."

She sighed, but words like that pretty effectively took the wind from her sails. "Then the point of this one was, what? Making sure I know my usefulness?"

"To a degree. You will be a leader one day, Alina. Assessing and understanding potential problems is a part of that. As is finding a solution." He did look at her then, pale eyes pinning her in place. "Knowing that there is no possible way I'm letting you on the field before you've graduated, how would you include yourself in this campaign?"

"Make sure the Grisha know my cues," Alina said immediately. Her cues were codewords, chosen so she could command her allies to avoid her powers without alerting the enemy. "You might not want me on the field, but this is border warfare. Everywhere is the field. Which means including me in the defensive plans."

"That will make you a target."

She threw him a disgusted look. "Just because I don't have the Cut yet doesn't mean I'm completely toothless. The benefits of involving me in defense outweigh any costs, and you know it."

He seemed amused by that as well. It didn't help her urge to hit him anyway. But he stayed silent and so she continued.

"And I should be present in your meetings. All of them, or as many as possible. I'll never get the experience I need otherwise, and I might even have some insight. Besides," she added after a beat in which he continued to say nothing. "No one will trust a Sun Summoner who isn't involved in some way. I need to _earn_ my title."

She waited, trying not to seem breathless about it. She was pretty convinced that her suggestions were good, but that meant nothing in the face of the Darkling's will. It wasn't even that he threw her requests and wishes side at a whim - no, he always had a disgustingly logical reason for why what she wanted wasn't feasible.

"You've thought this through," he said finally. "We'll negotiate the extent of your involvement in the defenses, but I can't see a reason not to implement any of this."

His smile - genuine, without that gentle mockery - was like the sun coming up.

 

**v.**

"Must be nice." Ivan sauntered over to her. The only people in sight were servants for the time being, so he allowed himself a grin. "Having someone pitch a tent just for you. Us poor _Corporalki_ have to share."

Alina tugged up a hank of grass and threw at him from her position, cross-legged under a tree. It was baking hot, and she was mostly certain that any natural resistance she had to the sun was negated by the fact that she was dressed entirely in black. The gold accents didn't do much to keep the heat out, and she had considered briefly hunting down the Darkling to demand to know if his colour scheme was really _that_ important.

"I've heard all about what goes on in that tent," she sniffed. "I'm sure you'll be just fine."

"Actually, I've been assigned to your personal guard. I'll be spending more time outside yours than in mine."

The idea of Ivan and tents and Ivan in tents brought something else entirely to mind. Something wriggled in the pit of her stomach; she wasn't sure if it was pleasure, or nervousness as he lowered himself to the ground in front of her.

"And just how did you swing that?" She stretched out her leg, nudging his with a bare toe.

"The Darkling wanted the best guarding you."

"And you're the best?"

His grin was gone, but he didn't need to be smiling for that _Ivan_ mix of pride and arrogance to shine through. "Do I still need to prove that to you, Alina?"

If she were Zoya, she was pretty sure she'd rise to that challenge. _It's one thing amongst many_ , she'd say, while squeezing his arm or something absurd.

Alina was not Zoya, and was grateful for it. She leaned forward slightly, just enough to make the space between them a tether, rather than a gap.

"You don't need to prove anything to me, Ivan."

She had the _deep_ satisfaction of watching the day's heat crawl up his neck, then.

 

**vi.**

It was her own arrogance that got her in the end, of course. About her only saving grace was that she didn't do something completely idiotic like try to slip her _oprichniki_ in the process.

She had sat in on the meetings. Defensive plans were in place, and the majority of the Grisha had been told her cues. Alina was prepared, she thought, for any eventuality. And if she wasn't, the Darkling definitely was.

" _Guarding_ does not mean _stalking_ , Ivan," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have my _oprichniki_. Three shadows are enough, I don't need a fourth."

His mouth was set in a grim line. "What if I said I wanted to spend time with you?"

"I'd say no, when you look that sour." But she did reach out, touching his arm gently. The place where she had burned him, once upon a time. "Please relax. I'm going to be fine, I promise."

He didn't relax. Of course, he spent half his life tense, so that didn't worry her so much. Not when he listened to her, leaving her in relative peace.

She hadn't anticipated just how exhausting being on campaign would be. And the embarrassing part was, they hadn't even seen any action yet. No, this was just the boring parts, the extended hours in the saddle, the pressure of every thought and opinion she put forth being in front of actual soldiers, people with real experiences.

Challenging the Darkling was one thing. Challenging her people, she was finding, was quite another. But even staying silent had its own difficulties, when it came to trying to process information, make sense of it without asking too many questions, or somehow putting her foot in it.

Without really thinking about it, Alina drifted away from the main encampment. She craved quiet - real quiet, without the subtle and real weight of a hundred eyes on her. Peace, in Ravka, was probably too much to ask for.

 

**vii.**

The arrow, when it punched through her shoulder, didn't hurt.

Well, no. It did hurt, but that came later. As the head - not barbed, she didn't think - bit through muscle and tendon, all she felt was a sudden shock, a _wrongness_ under her skin. Alina didn't even register, at first, exactly what had happened.

"Kill the witch!"

"Miss Alina, get down!"

That was when it hurt. The pain exploded through her, radiating out from her shoulder through the rest of her body. Her arm was a dead weight, her stomach in her throat somewhere. She wasn't sure what kept her from being sick, but later she would remain eternally grateful to it, even as she staggered to her knees.

Stupidly, she reached out to touch the site of the wound. The entire world blurred as another wave of agony overwhelmed her, and a low cry tore itself from her lips. Barely, she was aware of shapes moving, men fighting, another arrow shattering on a rock near her knee

Someone else cried out. Erik, she realised. Erik, one of her first _oprichniki_. Erik, who had given her his gloves. Erik, who even after eight years, had never quite been able to figure out what to call her.

Her mouth worked, but while the cry of pain had come so easily, it took her a few tries to get the next few syllables out.

"Cl-close," she croaked, her mind scrabbling for her cues. _Don't look at me_. "Close!"

And she reached for the light, weaving it around her in thick strands until she glowed like the sun itself, and twice as hard to look at directly. Guilt tasted sour in the back of her throat, but this was how she had been trained. The Sun Summoner was not expendable.

 _The next one_ , she reminded herself. She was sticky and hot and the world was a golden smear before her, but she could do this. It was just one word. She could manage a single word.

"Open!"

It sounded stupid. She had thought she was so clever, coming up with the cues. _Close_ , to make the enemy think they needed to close their eyes when she was trying to make herself less of a target. _Open_ when-

A loud _crack_ echoed through the trees, and the world went white. Yells of confusion and dismay rose up around her, and a grim smile pulled at her mouth.

If they thought they could take out the Sun Summoner with something as common as an arrow, she had something to show them.

Or perhaps not. She heard the clap before the boom came, shadows roiling through the woods to wrap around the bodies of her assailants. Her _oprichniki_ needed no further instruction, apparently, falling back and gathering her prone form up as quickly and gently as possible.

No amount of gentle was enough. Before the fingers of unconsciousness reached up to drag her under, her hazy eyes saw the slice of a deeper darkness cut through the very air.

The screams of fear went, abruptly, silent.

 

**viii.**

Alina ached.

But that was all.

Cautiously, she reached for the light in her room. Only one shadow disturbed it, and she winced before she could stop herself. The idea that the Darkling's shadow somehow had a different composition to everyone else's was born ridiculous, and made perfect sense. Either way, she knew when it was him.

It was him.

"Alina." He sounded exhausted. "I know you're awake."

"I wasn't trying to hide it, " she protested weakly. She attempted to struggle into a sitting position, only to be foiled by a firm, careful hand on her shoulder. The one she hadn't been shot in. Her body thumped back into the pillows with a defeated _whompf,_ and she groaned.

"You were shot," he said, and beneath the worry, she thought she could detect a note of dry humour in his voice. Of course. "Be gentle with yourself."

 _You were shot_. The memory flashed through her mind, and a phantom pain spasmed through her shoulder. Or maybe it was real? Cautiously, she tried to lift her arm. It ached, but so far as she could tell, she retained the full range of motion.

"What about Erik?" she asked, watching her fingers clench and unclench. That taste was in the back of her throat again. "Is he all right?"

"The _oprichnik?_ He will live." A creaking sound as the Darkling shifted towards her made her look over at him . He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I am having trouble deciding if I should be mad at your, or proud. Your actions saved his life."

Alina relaxed her fingers, letting her head drop back. "But."

"But you were foolish." There was another long pause, before he sighed. Cool fingers brushed over hers, almost as though he had considered taking her hand. "I don't need to tell you that. If you are the Grisha I think you are, you already know the lesson you should take from this."

 _Is this another test?_ She thought about saying it, but that guilty taste stayed her tongue. This wasn't a time to revisit her constant battlefield with the Darkling, to try and see if her responses could chalk up to a win for her. Someone had gotten hurt for her sake, because of a mistake she had made.

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

"What do the soldiers think?" she asked instead. "The Grisha, the _oprichniki_?"

Did they know that a stupid sixteen year old girl had wandered out of the protection of the camp without even thinking twice about it?

"They know that a surprise attack nearly killed the Sun Summoner. And they know that the Sun Summoner conducted a defense in spite of that, and that all Ravkans returned to the camp alive. The Grisha are impressed with your skill and determination. The _otkazat'sya_ \- the _oprichniki_ \- have heard that you took a risk for Erik, and are impressed that you thought to care. How you ended up in the position to be attacked in the first place is irrelevant."

Alina snorted. Took a risk? Erik's cries had forced her to take action, but there hadn't been any risk taking involved in that. She didn't have to look far to know who had put _that_ particular spin on the situation.

"You can turn any situation to your advantage, can't you?"

"All good leaders can." His hand reached out again, fingers brushing her cheek this time. "Don't make me have to find the positivity in you getting shot again, Alina. The search was not so easy as you seem to believe."

Her lips twitched up, even as she felt the claws of exhaustion sinking in, dragging her down. "That sounds like affection."

"Is that so unusual?"

Her eyes slipped shut. Before sleep could claim her again, she reached up to her cheek with one shaky hand, covering his fingers with hers.

He let her.

 

**ix.**

It was dark when she awoke again, and Alina was alone.

Her shoulder still ached, but she took the opportunity to drag the neck of her shirt down to inspect the Healer's work, summoning a glow of light in one hand to see better.

There was a scar. But it was neat, and barely raised. Another session could probably make it disappear entirely. She twisted her head, and was making a face at the matching scar on the back of her shoulder - she was glad she'd been unconscious when they'd had to push the arrow through - when a tap at her tent flap came.

"There's a _Corporalki_ here to see you, Sun Summoner. Says his name is Ivan."

A distant part of Alina had to laugh internally at the way her _oprichniki_ pretended that they didn't follow her everywhere. She appreciated their attempt at giving her privacy, at least. The rest of her was too busy tugging her shirt back into place, throwing back the covers of her camp bed.

Someone had washed the blood off her, thankfully, and she was acceptably dressed (in black, of course). Clearing her throat, she expanded the light so the whole tent was dimly lit.

"He can come in."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Ivan pushed through what passed for a door into her pavilion. His expression was blacker than the Darkling's Cut as he strode towards her, and Alina the Sun Summoner wisped away in the face of Alina the girl's worry.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say, standing. "I did something really stupid, and someone got hurt because of it. You don't have to lecture me, but I know you probably will, so I'll just stand here and you can-"

He reached out and grabbed her wrist - the uninjured arm - tugging her towards him. She was surprised enough that she let him, didn't stop until he had her pulled tight against him. She opened her mouth again to say - something, she wasn't sure what, and it ddn't matter anyway, because he was kissing her.

Alina had kissed boys before. The Grisha weren't exactly prudish about those sorts of things, and _everyone_ was good looking. But that had been party-game stuff, kissing just to see what it was like. No one ever dared form any actual attachment to the Sun Summoner, and Alina had her training and her friends and the Darkling to focus on anyway.

But as Ivan's mouth moved over hers - as she kissed him _back_ , first on instinct, then out of actual longing - every single one of those things slipped away, until there was only Ivan. His chest pressed to hers, their fingers wrapped together, his hand threading through her hair and winding tight, like he was terrified that if he let her go, she would disappear.

The light around them flared brightly, and he pulled away, dark eyes searching her face. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him, because the distance between them remained static, and then closed again as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Too many people I care about are dead," he whispered hoarsely. "You are not allowed to be one of them."

Her heart, which was beating about ten times too fast already, ricocheted right up into her throat. Alina swallowed, her free hand moving of its own accord to touch his cheek, cup it gently, slide back into his hair until she was mirroring his gesture.

"Okay," she managed, after a second or two. "Okay."

For a moment, silence, as though neither one of them quite knew what to do after that sudden expression of emotion. Finally, Alina cracked a grin. Tremulous, but there.

"It had better not take me getting shot for you to kiss me again, understand?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to get an extra chapter out before november, but that sadly didn't even up working out. SO GMM is on hiatus until December once i have recovered from nanowrimo (i'm ignitesthestars there too if anyone wants to friend me)


	13. Chapter 13

**i.**

Kissing Ivan did not require taking another arrow to the shoulder. As it turned out, getting shot had actually been sort of a requirement for that to happen at all - not only had it prompted him to do it in the first place, but it had forced her to admit that she needed more of a guard. And who better to spend most of his time defending her than a _Corporalki_ prodigy?

Two _Corporalki_ prodigies, apparently. But Fedyor was respectful, the type to turn his face away politely when she stole a quick kiss from Ivan, rather than to take notes for later gossip.

Or reporting back to anyone.

"Do you think he'll tell?" Alina murmured, tugging Ivan behind a convenient tree. The past few days had been an exercise in finding hiding spots in the middle of camp. She was getting quite good at it, if she did say so herself.

Ivan wrangled his hands from hers, settling them on her waist instead. His hold on her was firm, almost possessive. She hadn't yet decided if she liked that, so she let him keep doing it in the hopes she'd figure it out.

"Who, Fedyor?" He snorted, stepping in close until her back hit the tree. "Man keeps to himself. And if he decided not to, I'd teach him otherwise."

"My hero," Alina said dryly, pushing herself up onto her toes. Her lips pressed to his cheek, once, briefly. "So you think he won't tell _anyone_?"

There was a pause. She waited for him to kiss her back, but he pulled away instead, frowning at her.

"Who are you worried about finding out?"

"No one!" She covered his hands with hers, in case he wanted to pull those away as well.

" _Alina_." His fingers twitched, but only to tighten his grip on her. "Is it him?"

Him. There was only one him that could be. Alina knew she couldn't keep this from the Darkling forever, but - she wanted to. If not forever, then for as long as she could. She wanted to have something for _her_ , something he couldn't get his hands on. Something he couldn't give his own personal touch to.

Maybe Genya hadn't been a lesson. Maybe that situation didn't have anything to do with her. That didn't mean she wanted to see it happen again, to someone else important to her. So she laughed, pressing her lips to his this time.

"I'm not some interesting pet who can't do anything without his permission, you know. I have kissed other people before, you think he cared about them?"

Strangely, that didn't make Ivan look any less grumpy. "Are you saying I'm the same as all the other people you've kissed?"

"No. _They_ kissed me back."

He took the hint.

 

**ii.**

"It's late, Alina."

Strange shadows flickered on the pale gold of her tent walls. She was causing them, her body glowing softly. It was easier than lighting lamps, as she sat cross-legged on the ground, bent over a map.

"You're welcome to sleep, if you're tired," she told the Darkling, not looking up. Even if his voice wasn't as intimately familiar to her as her own, there was only one person who entered her presence unannounced.

"I rarely am."

A smile tugged at her mouth, even as her finger traced a line across her map. "Somewhere in this country, peasants are telling tales about the monster Darkling who never sleeps."

"Not just this country."

She did look up then, smiling at him, gratified to find a faint uptick of his own mouth. "Will there be tales like that about me, do you think?"

"About the monster in the light?"

"No, I - yes? I don't know. Anything."

There was a rustle of clothing as he sat down opposite her, mirroring her posture. In the flickering light of her power, he seemed otherwordly and too normal at the same time. She ran her gaze over his form, as though looking at him would somehow help her understand him.

"The word they use for you will not be monster."

_Then what?_ But she didn't ask, looking back down at her map instead.

"I have a question."

He said nothing, waiting. Taking a breath, she retraced her line on the map.

"The attack on me came from here. We have outposts here-" She pointed, "and here. The terrain - it's not impassable, but if you don't know it, it'd be difficult to pass. Why would a group of Fjerdan's be familiar with the area?"

"They have scouts as well, Alina."

"Exactly! Where were our scouts? How did a group like this get so close to us? How did they even know _to_ get close?"

Pale fingers reached out to turn the map around, and she watched him bend over it in the same way she had, not moments before. There was an intensity to his grey gaze that made her shiver as it followed the invisible line her finger had drawn.

"You have been riding with me," he offered as an explanation. "Information spreads. And not every _otkazat'sya_ is as grateful as they should be."

"I know." She felt something in her chest constrict, faced with another of her ideas being discarded without much consideration. And here she thought they'd been making progress, before the attack. "It just - seems like too many coincidences. Like it was arranged."

The silence stretched on for so long that she began to regret speaking up at all. She fought the urge to snatch at her words, wrap then back up in her tongue like they'd never escaped. Something was off, she knew it.

"I will...look into it."

He drew the words out. It was difficult to see in the dim light her body cast, but the lines of his face seemed to be drawn into something resembling pride.

She couldn't help it. She sat up straighter. "You think it's worth that?"

"I think," he said, and there was no mistaking the pleasure in his tone now, "that it is time I started listening to your intuition, as well as mine."

The tent around them brightened considerably. Amusement laced his features as he tipped his face up to the ceiling.

"Except when it comes to stealth missions."

 

**iii.**

Alina had dreamed for years of being invited to the Darkling's strategy meetings with his _Corporalki_. Those dreams had consisted of a lot of her talking, and other people agreeing - especially the Darkling - that her ideas were great, and should be implemented immediately.

The reality was, she barely uttered a word. She might have been the Sun Summoner, but one look at the faces in the Darkling's command tent told her that these Grisha only cared about that to the extent that the Darkling required. And he had required that her offensive abilities were strictly off the table, which made her vastly less interesting than she might have been.

Probably the most surprising part of the situation was that Alina found she didn't mind. She had taken classes, of course, but this was real life. Territory taken or lost altered the very shape of Ravka. Pegs moved on maps indicated actual forces, actual _people_. She was ready to do what was required of her in warfare, but actually taking responsibility for that?

For the time being, at least, she was happy to let the more experienced Grisha cover that side of it.

" _Moi soverenyi_." The Grisha who spoke seemed older in some way, for all that she looked like a fresh faced twenty-something year old. The hesitancy in her voice was careful, but not - like some of the other, younger _Corporalki_ _-_ afraid, and the Darkling inclined his head at her. "The Sun Summoner has shown herself to be an effective weapon. Now that she has recovered from her injury, might we take that into consideration when preparing our defenses?"

It was a masterful question. Alina almost wanted to applaud at the way the blond woman managed to mix just the right amounts of deference and confidence. The final decision would be in the hands of the Darkling, but she had proven that he care for the wellbeing of the Second Army overtook and shock and awe being in his presence might provide.

Alina, very abruptly, wanted to be her. But that was a confidence that came only with experience, and she did her best not to look too attentively at the Darkling to see if he would follow through on allowing her to get it. He had _said_ she could be involved in the defenses, but the things that the Darkling said had a tendency to change depending on his needs.

And. That was before she had gotten shot. She had to resist the urge to rub her shoulder, even though Grisha Healers had ensured that not even a twinge remained.

"It would do the general populace good to see her at work," Fedyor added, now that someone else had brought the subject up. He had more deference than confidence, but he still spoke the words. "Our people have reported a more...positive sentiment than usual towards Grisha in the surrounding villages, since the attack on the Sun Summoner."

The Darkling regarded his advisors evenly. He didn't, Alina noted, let the silence extend uncomfortably as he did when he was displeased, and she wondered if the others in the command tent recognised that.

Finally, his gaze flickered over to her. "What do you think, Alina?"

_That_ , she hadn't expected, and she fervently thanked the saints for her upbringing in the Little Palace for allowing her to keep the surprise off her face. She couldn't manage a blank face, but it wasn't too hard to force her features into thoughtfulness. Judging by the dark look that flickered over Ivan's face, she pulled it off.

"If support from the locals is an issue, we should camp forward of them. My understanding is that we're well-prepared to take the raider settlements in this area, but if they should get around the initial assault, those of us seeing to defense can mop up without enticing them to go through the village."

The Darkling steepled his fingers in front of him. "If both defense and propaganda is what we're aiming for here, why not billet with the villagers? It would save us resources, and free up more Grisha for the attack. If you were hit by raiders, you would have more solid defenses, and give the villagers the opportunity to see you in action."

For a moment, Alina was stumped. She wrestled with the flush that fought to rise in her cheeks, sifting a little desperately through her training. Except, it wasn't the instructive tones of any of her trainers that filtered through the sudden panic clouding her brain, but something older. More primal.

Ana Kuya's quietly obvious distaste for the Second Army whispered through the back of her mind, and Alina found herself reaching for it, a little desperately. Aware that all eyes were on her, she focussed solely on the Darkling, his mutely enquiring expression.

He wasn't trying to embarrass her. He genuinely wanted to see what she would come up with, and she wasn't going to let him down.

"We might not be hit," she said slowly. "And forcing villagers to billet soldiers of any kind, but especially ones that frighten them, doesn't engender positive feeling. Seeing what I can do might counter that, but if the opportunity doesn't present itself, they'll just feel put upon and resentful. From what I've heard this morning, the danger doesn't seem drastic enough to risk the backlash for a sliver of extra defence."

He didn't smile. He barely seemed to react at all, other than folding his hands down from their steeple, sitting back slightly. But he spoke, and Alina _knew_ he was pleased with her.

"We camp here." He slid a marker across the map in front of them, pinning a place forward from the village. "The Sun Summoner will head the defense of both camp and village."

The conversation continued, and Alina did her utmost best to pay attention. if part of that attention was diverted to swallowing a triumphant smile, she didn't think anyone could blame her.

 

**iv.**

Ivan wasn't happy. And honestly? Alina couldn't find it in herself to care all that much. Maybe that made her a terrible girlfriend, or whatever she was to him, but the truth was that she had wanted this opportunity for a lot longer than she had wanted him.

The chance to prove herself and her abilities? She wouldn't give that up for the world.

"I seem to remember that you were only sixteen when the Darkling recruited you," she pointed out that evening.

"That was different."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I had at least graduated!"

"Barely."

He gritted his teeth at her, but she only crossed her arms back at him. A beat passed, two, before he softened abruptly and looked away.

"You were just shot not a week ago. That doesn't entitle me to concern?"

"You can be as concerned as you like. What you can't do is look at me like that's supposed to make me not do this."

His mouth curled, his blatant distaste pinching at her. She forgot, sometimes, what an ass he could be.

"I'm the Sun Summoner. What did you think I was going to do, Ivan, stay safe in camp and _not_ summon? Saints, I'm only running defense. What are you going to be like when I head the field?"

He twitched. He didn't even try to hide it. Apparently it was all very well to draw promises out of her, but when it came to filling them, he would rather she didn't.

"You are the most frustrating person I have ever dealt with," he muttered, one hand curling into a fist before he forced it to relax.

"Don't be ridiculous. You've met Zoya."

Alina wished she could say she wasn't holding her breath. But the truth was, no matter how right she happened to be, she didn't want Ivan being angry. It was with a quiet startlement that she realised she couldn't remember the last time someone had been truly mad at her.

Zoya didn't count.

An irritated sigh tugged her from thoughts as Ivan tugged on her hand. After a moment of resistance, she uncrossed her arms and allowed him to reel her in, accepting his apologetic kiss.

"If you get shot again, I will kill you."

"If I get shot again, I'll deserve it."

 

**v.**

She was assured that they likely wouldn't come. She had sat in the command tent and seen the perfect plan unfold, the staggered lines of offense and defense, the perfectly orchestrated gaps to allow any wounded to get back to the Healers.

She was completely unsurprised when that all went to hell. Alina was a good student, after all. And the first lesson of war was to never rely on the plan.

There was something else as well, but Alina had resolved to get through this situation first before she tackled it. She was confident enough in her abilities, but there was no sense tempting fate with distractions.

She felt their shadows first, disturbing the dappled light she'd laid carefully around the camp. A smirk tugged her lips with a rush of exhilaration - not bad, from a little girl who had been too afraid of losing her powers to learn the gentle techniques. Her light had been so soft, so subtle, it was almost indistinguishable from the sun.

Alina remembered the next part in pieces. Alert her Grisha, the few left to the defense. Order them in place. Step out in full view of the enemy as they attempt to creep up on the camp.

Immolate.

They screamed. She regretted that, that she wasn't fast enough to be instantaneous yet. But Alina Starkov's first kills went almost unnoticed by her conscience, as a sudden cheer broke the startled silence, half shout and half laughter as a ripple of awareness raced through the camp.

A thing was done that day which had never been done before. And as she left the charred remains to return to her post, she imagined that she had also kindled something like hope.

 

**vi.**

There was a celebration that night, kegs cracked open, bottles of _kvas_ passed around. They had annihilated the enemy completely, and the entire Grisha company was high on the thought of Ravka ascendant. If there was one thing practitioners of the Small Science knew how to do, it was throw a party.

Alina grabbed Ivan's hand in the chaos and dragged him into her tent. He gazed at her like she was the sun itself, and she spared half a second for basking in it before she pressed flush against him, kissing him hard and fast and _smug_.

"I told you so," she panted into his mouth. Her fingers curled into his hair and tightened, pulling a satisfied hiss from him. "Are you convinced I'm not some delicate flower, yet?"

He was no less gentle with her, and she decided that in this moment, at least, she definitely enjoyed his harsh grip on her waist. "I may require more evidence," he growled. The sound shivered straight through her.

She liked his hands in other places too, she discovered that night.

 

**vii.**

"You were missing for some time."

Midway through pulling pins out of her hair - Ivan had not been allowed to muss that too badly - Alina glanced over her shoulder at the Darkling and smirked.

"I was gone a half hour," she corrected, tossing the diamond encrusted pin into a bowl on the folding table in front of her. "I know the importance of being seen, you know. I've only been watching you half my life."

She could see his dark form approaching in the reflection of her portable mirror, but it wasn't until his fingers brushed a loose curl that she realised what he planned. Abruptly, Alina found her breath catching in her throat. She watched, eyes wide, as his reflection carefully eased the next pin from her hair, and then the next after that.

"Who knew you were so talented with women's accessories?" she managed after a moment, doing her best not to make it sound like an accusation. What would she even be accusing him of?

He just smiled at her, the expression faint and offering no answer at all. Alina closed her eyes, finding it less confusing to not watch him.

"You've done well today," he said, when he had carefully set the last pin in the bowl. "Other than your disappearance this evening."

She rolled her eyes. Her fingers drummed on the table once, twice, before she lifted her gaze to meet his in the mirror. No matter how pleasing she found his words, she had something to address with this man.

"So. Does that mean I pass?"

"Pass?"

"I'm not eight anymore, Darkling." Alina turned to face him properly, lifting her chin. "I told Genya when I first heard of your return to Os Alta that either something disastrous had occurred, or you were testing me. And nothing disastrous has occurred."

It was something that had niggled at her ever since she'd pointed out the problem to him on the map after she was shot. He had done a convincing job of acting as though he was outraged at the thought of treachery, but it hadn't bypassed her notice that he had never followed up the way he said he would. After sitting in on the command tent - well. She supposed it was still possible that the enemy could have broken through, but she doubted it. Not without advanced notice from the other Grisha.

"You think this was a set up?" he said finally, the merest hint of curiosity colouring his tone.

"No." She crossed her arms at him. She was doing that a lot with the men in her life lately. "I know it was a set up. I know you never would have thrown me in the path of an army on my own until you were absolutely sure of my capabilities. That isn't how you function."

"Then how do I function, Alina?"

Saints, but he had a terrible way of saying her name. Not for the first time, Alina wished for a mentor who was a little less...attractive. Attracting. Maybe if he grew a moustache, she would have less trouble.

"However you need to."

She wondered if he'd give her another question for that, another probing comment. She wondered if the testing would ever end.

"You're right," he said finally.

She blinked.

"There is too much at stake for me to act otherwise. We must all do what must be done. And you cannot be risked in open warfare. Not until I am sure you can handle yourself, and those around you."

"Erik got hurt because of what you did."

"You got shot," he replied levelly. "Believe me when I say one of these things is more concerning than the other. The _oprichniki_ serve however they are required to."

Once, she might have objected to that. The _oprichniki_ were still people, after all, still had families and lives and hopes and dreams of her own. But she remembered the first moment of that attack, the instant of shock before the pain had swamped her, before she had been able to think through it and fend off the ambush.

She had not been prepared. She had not been ready. Now she was, and while she didn't like that Erik had gotten hurt from a danger that had never truly existed - no _wonder_ the Darkling had been so close at hand - she understood the necessity.

_For Ravka_ , she had told Ivan, when they had spoken of killing. She thought of the charred remains of men who might otherwise have lived, if the Darkling had not carefully orchestrated their attack on her.

"For Ravka." She echoed her own thoughts, pinning the man with her gaze. "We must all do what must be done for Ravka."

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and i'm back! nanowrimo has been successfully won, and i hope y'all are doing great c:


	14. Chapter 14

**i.**

"I'm going to kill you."

Halfway through tugging off her _kefta_ , Alina paused, glancing over her shoulder. Genya was standing in her doorway, looking like - well, like she was about to kill her. That had to be some kind of record. Alina had only been back in the Little Palace for maybe an hour.

"I sent a servant to ask if you were in your rooms," she protested. "They told me you weren't there."

"Not because of that."

Quick, efficient hands tugged at her clothes. Alina thought about protesting, but the words died on her lips. There was no stopping Genya when she was in one of her moods; it would be easier on everyone if she just let the older girl have her way. Dutifully, she turned as directed, raising her arms and lowering them until the _kefta_ was off and she was standing there in breeches and an undershirt.

"I can take the pants off myself," she warned her friend, seeing Genya's fingers twitch. That earned her another scowl.

"Show me the scar."

... _Ah_. It was a little beyond belief, now that she thought of it, but in the excitement of coming home and everything that had happened before that, Alina had forgotten that she'd been shot.

That was probably terrible. She wasn't going to share that one with Genya.

"It's minimal. The Healers took care of it."

The look she got for her trouble probably could have poisoned a lesser Grisha; as it was, Alina sighed and tugged her sleeve aside, baring her shoulder to the other girl's inspection.

"See? It's perfectly fine."

'Perfectly fine' was a tiny starburst of scar tissue, the new, pink skin barely discernable from her usual complexion. But Genya was frowning. "Why is it even still there? The Healers should have been able to deal with this last part, easily."

Keeping herself from wincing was difficult, but she managed it. Having forgotten - briefly - about the whole event, she'd also forgotten to muse on the fact that she knew very well the Healers should have erased any physical sign that it had even happened. There was only person who could - who _would_ \- order them to leave a reminder.

She couldn't share that with Genya. She couldn't share more than the bare bones of how she'd gotten shot, the account that everyone else knew and believed. Not out of a need to protect the Darkling, but to protect Genya.

The other girl bore her situation by believing in the Darkling. She believed in a man who made necessary, harsh decisions in order to pave the way for a better world. But Alina did not know if she believed in a man who would have men killed for the sake of testing his protege, who considered a scar an appropriate reward for passing.

She wasn't willing to risk whatever ground her friend had gotten underneath her in the past few years, not for the sake of comfort she wasn't even sure she needed. Honestly, the most disquieting part of the whole situation was that Alina _did_ believe in a man who did those things.

She appreciated him, even, because he did them for her.

A pair of delicate fingers snapped in front of her face, making her jump.

" _There_ you are," Genya puffed impatiently, but there was real concern in that golden gaze. Alina smiled reflexively. "I was standing here like an idiot, calling your name."

"I suppose I should consider myself lucky you didn't hit me." She let her sleeve fall back into place, but those fingers snapped out again, this time holding it in place. "What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of this, obviously. What's the point in having a Tailor as a best friend, if not to get rid of unsightly blemishes?"

"Thanks, Genya." Her tone was dry, but her hands remained gentle as she pushed the fingers away. "But it's fine. I want to keep it."

The look that overcame her friend's face then could only be described as pure disgust. "You have been spending too much time around _Corporalki_."

Alina seized that thread of conversation like a lifeline. " _Actually_."

Genya's perfectly plucked eyebrows crawled their way up her forehead. "There is no positive ending to that sentence, Alina."

"You aren't allowed to say that, when you've been taunting me about Ivan since forever!"

That only resulted in a triumphant yell from Genya, and it was all Alina could do to find a more comfortable shirt before her friend dragged her over to the bed to demand all the details. As she explained just _how_ good Ivan looked up close without his shirt on, she could feel her concerns about the other details she couldn't share slowly slipping away.

There were different levels of private. Most of those, she didn't mind sharing with Genya. The rest remained between her and the Darkling.

 

**ii.**

Alina couldn't sleep.

As camp beds went, hers had been perfectly comfortable. But it was nothing compared to the opulence of the mattress in her Little Palace quarters, and no matter how she tossed and turned, she couldn't seem to find a satisfying position.

That, and her mind was running a million miles a minute. On the road, everything had been so _in the moment_. She hadn't even been back home for twenty four hours before the lazy pace of the Little Palace had cast its net over her, reminding her that she had time to think now.

She had been shot. She had gotten shirtless with a boy. She had killed people. She had let the Darkling undo her hair. She had summoned like she had never summoned in her life, and yet...

 _It's not enough_ , a voice in her head whispered. It sounded suspiciously like Baghra.

Sighing irritably, Alina threw back her covers, padding through her rooms to the exit. The _oprichniki_ leapt to attention, and she pretended not to notice one of them peeling away into the shadows as she continued down the hall.

For a moment, her attention was drawn to the Darkling's door. The idea of him sleeping was somehow ludicrous, even though she knew he had to. He wasn't inhuman. Just very close to it. But the idea of going to him because she couldn't sleep was even more ridiculous, so she passed the door with only the smallest of hesitations.

She wasn't eight years old anymore. She could see to her own sleeping habits.

Or lack thereof, because the door she ended up in front of was Ivan's, and even she couldn't convince herself that she had just come there because he was more likely to have a comfortable bed. For once, she actually did knock. Some things, that were more likely to happen in the privacy of one's bed at night, she wasn't quite ready to walk in on.

Except she didn't get any response. Ivan was not a deep sleeper - none of the Darkling's Grisha were, like they all had one ear ready to hear if he needed them. Alina stepped back, giving the door a once over, and it was then that she noticed the crack of light seeping from underneath it. Not natural light obviously, which was why she hadn't sensed it. Frowning deeper, she twisted the handle and creaked the door open as quietly as she could.

She needn't have bothered. Ivan was clearly awake, his silhouette bent over his desk in the flickering light of an oil lamp. He didn't even look up when she approached, and something about that and the tense lines of his body had Alina keeping her mouth shut, at least until she could figure out just what had happened.

Coming around the side of his desk, she could see that his hands were curled into fists, the knuckles white. His hair was a mess, like those fist has been dragged through it at some point, but his face was totally clear as he stared sightlessly down at a sheet of paper in front of him.

No, not clear. Blank. A frisson of fear lanced through her, because Ivan had been a lot of things in the time she had known him, but this eerie stillness that still hinted at an awful violence was not something she had ever encountered. She didn't fear for _herself_ , obviously, but for him? What had happened to induce this in him?

She wasn't even sure if he had registered that she was there. Confident that he'd stop her if he didn't want the contents known, Alina carefully plucked the letter from in front of him. Her heart plummeted to her stomach the second she saw the seal of the First Army, cracked so roughly that the page underneath had torn as well.

There was only one reason the First Army would be writing to Ivan, and he had known that when he opened the letter. Alina forced herself to read the thing anyway, taking in each word. _Unexpected raid. You brother Dmitri. Died a hero. Defending Ravka. Our deepest condolences._ Instinctively, she sought out the date and felt her stomach fall even further.

While they had been celebrating their victory, Ivan's brother had been dead or dying. Alina thought of the boy who hadn't wanted to be a soldier, but had made the best of it anyway. The boy who had wanted to be a Grisha like his older brother, who had asked her to stop sending him gifts because it made the other soldiers jealous. The boy who had lost so much, who had been forced to give up one last, awful time.

"Ivan…" It was only after she had rested a light hand on his shoulder that she realised she had no idea how to finish that sentence. She had never been good at this, and it occurred to her then that she wasn't even sure how many times she had done this before. Was this the third? Or the fourth?

She had never been so glad to be an orphan. She curled her free hand under his chin, tipping his head up to her face.

"What can I do?" she murmured. "I want to help, how can I help?"

The tension in his shoulders vibrated under her hand, and she watched as the blankness drained away into something harsh and ugly and ruined. He said nothing, but when his mouth crashed into hers she met him measure for measure. Her gentle touch became a clawed fist in his shirt, the one on his face curling around to the back of his neck so she could grip him harder. Those heavy hands pulled at her waist, and she slung one leg over his until she was straddling him, pressing as close to him as she could manage without crawling inside his chest cavity.

Her grief was nothing in comparison to his. She let it drown them both.

 

**iii.**

Alina woke the next morning tangled up in Ivan and feeling like she hadn't slept at all.

"I could get used to waking up like this," Ivan murmured into her hair, and the lack of anything like pain in his voice had her sitting up, staring down at him. Unlike her, he was shirtless, and she could see the path of destruction she'd wreaked on his skin in the effort to transmute his pain into something - anything - else.

Red from her fingers, purple from her mouth. Nothing had happened below the waist, but she thought that if it had been any other situation, or even if Dmitri had died after they'd started sleeping together, it might have. Would have.

The thought didn't make her nervous, didn't make her guilty. She wasn't sure what it made her, wasn't sure how to feel about much of anything when Ivan was looking at her like the last remnant of his family hadn't just been decimated.

"I haven't breathed on you yet," she pointed out slowly, cautiously. "You might change your mind."

He pushed himself up onto his elbow and kissed her. Unlike the night before, it was softly, carefully. Almost apologetic. One of those big hands curled around her waist, pressing flat against the small of her back. If she couldn't see that letter lying crumpled on the floor where she'd dropped it, she might have thought the night before had been a dream in the face of his lazy gentleness.

"I don't think so."

The sharp knock at the door broke off any further exploration of the situation. Alina frowned, pretending not to notice the black look that flickered across Ivan's face as she twisted in the bed.

"What is Genya doing here?"

"You recognise that girl's knock?"

"Surprisingly. She doesn't usually knock, these days." She returned Ivan's hands to him and untangled herself, walking the short distance to the door herself.

"I was hoping you wouldn't be here," Genya sighed. She looked as flawless as ever, and Alina became painfully aware of her own unkempt state. She reached up to her hair self-consciously, but Genya was already smoothing her fingers down the strands. With each pass of her hand, the dark mess coiled into its usual smooth waves.

"Hello to you, too."

"Is there a problem?" Ivan's voice rumbled as he took his place behind Alina. She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was frowning.

Genya's gaze swept coolly over the sight of him, and Alina just _knew_ she was taking in every single mark on him. She refused to blush, not when the awful reason for it was still hovering just out of reach - no matter how determined Ivan seemed to be to ignore it in the light of day.

"The Darkling requires the Sun Summoner's presence," Genya informed him. "There won't be a problem, so long as no one makes a fuss."

She didn't see it, but it wasn't too hard to imagine Ivan baring his teeth at the beautiful girl. Genya merely sniffed, and Alina decided that was enough of a pissing contest for one morning. She twisted, leaning up to press a kiss to Ivan's stubbled cheek. Up close like this, he looked about as well rested as she felt, and she felt a twinge of anxiety for him.

"I'll come back as soon as I'm done," she promised.

"Don't rush on my account."

With those uneasy last words, she followed Genya down the hall. The one time she turned to look back, she was met only with the solid wood of a closed door.

"Were those _bite marks_ , Alina Starkov?"

Now the flush came. "His brother died."

Genya's step faltered only slightly. "Oh." For a moment, the only sound between them was their footsteps. "Are you sure that's the best way to deal with this situation?"

"I didn't have sex with him, if that's what you mean."

"It wasn't really." Almost unconsciously, Genya reached up to finger one of her sapphire earrings. "Just...you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with just because he's sad, all right? It's not your job to make him feel better, period, but it's especially not your job to make him feel better in that way."

 _Don't be ridiculous_ , she wanted to snap, but managed to hold her tongue just in time. Genya, of all people, was not being ridiculous. She was being concerned, and after taking a moment to get over her gut reaction, Alina could admit that it was rightfully so. Quietly, she reached out to thread her fingers through the older girl's, squeezing tightly.

"I promise, anything that happened last night, I wanted all of it. Even if it was emotionally heavy, it wasn't bad. I mean - Saints, Dmitri is dead, it was _awful_. But it wasn't-"

"It's all right." Genya squeezed her hand back, offering her a smile. "I understood what you meant. I just wanted to make sure you knew you could say no, that's all. And if he, or anyone else, ever doesn't listen? You burn them to a crisp. Or if you don't feel up to that, you come to me, and I'll poison them for you."

Her voice was fierce. Alina's hand clenched around hers even harder for a second, before she abruptly relaxed it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, in the place where she kept all the information she was better off not talking about, a light of her own understanding flickered to life.

"I love you, Genya," she said after a moment, her voice soft, but no less fierce.

"I love you too, Alina."

Alina waited for the joke, the lighthearted comment from Genya that would divert the subject. But the words sat between them until Genya was able to deliver her to the Darkling's door. The older girl kissed her cheek and told her she'd see her in her rooms, and then she was gone.

It was only after Alina had curled her fingers around the golden handle and pushed open the door that she realised she had forgotten to ask just what the Darkling wanted her for.

 

**iv.**

"It's nearly lunch time."

Alina suppressed a sigh, even as she mentally thanked Genya for doing her hair. She might have still been in her nightwear, but at least she didn't look like a total mess.

"I don't have lessons, and you never said you wanted to meet with me. Sleeping in hasn't been made illegal between now and last night, has it?"

The Darkling was leaning against the doorframe leading into his bedroom, fully dressed in a fancier _kefta_ than usual. Not formally impressive, but definitely with more gold embroidery present. She had seen him in that kind of get up before, and something cold and thick slipped own her throat to settle in her stomach.

"If you were sleeping in, it was not in your own rooms."

 _Don't blush. Do not blush. Don't you dare blush._ "I couldn't sleep. I went to a friend's room, and then it turned out he needed my help. Not that I have to explain any of this to you."

His gaze flickered slightly then, only for the barest of seconds. But Alina realised, with no small amount of horror, that he had been looking at her collarbone. The night had been a blur of grief and sensation, but she could still remember Ivan's teeth there. Why hadn't she gotten Genya to heal _that_ before she came in here, _why_?

"You're right," he said after a long pause. "You don't have to explain. It has been some time since we were in the safety of the Little Palace, however. I was...concerned."

"The only danger _out_ of the Little Palace came from you," Alina shot back, and immediately regretted it. The dark look that swept his features was the kind of expression that would have had anyone else throwing themselves prostrate on the floor.

" _Alina_."

But she was the Sun Summoner. She could handle it. She could. "You can't blame me," she said, and was proud of the way her voice shook only a little, "for not necessarily trusting your concern, when it always comes with a hidden price tag.

He was still. And Saints, she hated it when he was still, when he kept even the faintest trace of his thoughts away from her. At times, Alina had felt quite pleased with herself for being one of the few people in the world who could read him. And then moments like this came, and she was reminded that she didn't know him at all.

"No one else dares speak to me the way you do," he said finally, his tone almost conversational.

"Baghra does."

"Baghra is a special case."

"Then so am I." Alina lifted her chin. "You didn't really call me in here to take me to task about not being in my rooms, did you?"

He regarded her for a further moment. Alina kept her chin up - she knew this trick, knew it was one of the many ways he made his followers uncomfortable, put them off balance, prompted to fill the silence with truths they otherwise might not have told. Eventually, he inclined his head.

"The king wishes to see us."

And Alina remembered the cold, sick feeling in her gut, and wished they could go back to talking about her sleeping habits.

 

**v.**

The king was angry.

Not for the first time. Alina didn't care. The king could be whatever he felt like; she had long ago promised to never look at him with anything other than the cold disdain she felt for him.

It wasn't political. It probably wasn't even all that smart. But on this matter, she wouldn't be moved. That was why she had the Darkling, after all, his ancient and tangled mind able to find a way to sooth the king, when he really wanted to. In this case, she was probably lucky that he had decided to want to.

"Do you understand what you've done, taking this - this _girl_ out and displaying her for anyone to see? My advisors say that both the Fjerdan _and_ Shu Han ambassadors have broken off any kind of negotiations, and Kerch is on the verge of doing the same!"

His weak chin trembled with outrage - outrage which was solely directed the Darkling. Every now and then his eyes would flicker towards Alina, and she had the deep satisfaction of seeing a man afraid. Genya had done her make up, of course, swept her hair up into elegant coils of diamond and gold. When she smiled at the king it was with lips painted a deep, violent red.

She had never told Genya to make her terrifying, but her friend didn't need to be told. It was so much _better_ , now that she had proven her power. Now that the king knew she wasn't a threat, but a promise. Alina revelled in it, as she revelled in that quiet light of knowledge that had flickered to life in the back of her mind that morning.

"I understand that I have shown the Ravkan people what hope looks like," the Darkling said softly. _Which is more than the First Army has done in decades_ didn't need to be said, judging by the purple tone the king's face took on. "Your Majesty has charged me with defending the borders, and they have been defended."

"You have _incited_ further violence! If we were adequately prepared to meet that violence, then I would understand why, but you have given no indication that you are ready to - finally, I might add - deploy this new weapon of yours."

"Alina is a Grisha, your Majesty." The Darkling's voice was silky smooth, but the king didn't appear to recognise the danger. His ego probably got in the way. "Her power must be coaxed and trained like any other member of the Second Army. Whatever bluster the ambassadors are blowing about, it is just that. Neither Fjerda nor Shu Han have taken leave of their senses enough that they would consider taking on _me_."

The king sneered. It was the very opposite of regal, but Alina had learnt over the years that the king tended to think that everything he did was regal anyway, simply because he was the king. "You of all people know that fear pushes people to do things that aren't the least bit sensible. I won't risk either nation devoting their full force of their army to Ravka, not unless you can assure me that your girl is ready to step up and take a position alongside you. Can your girl route an army, Darkling?"

"My name," Alina said, and her voice was as soft as the Darkling's had been, "is Alina Starkov, your Majesty. The Sun Summoner."

Out of the king's sight, a warning tendril of shadow wrapped around her ankle. Alina ignored it. She was in that frame of mind, between the Darkling's attitude, and Genya, and Ivan, and poor, poor Dmitri. She would play politics if she needed to, but she wasn't going to stand for being called _girl_ as though she wasn't even in the room.

The king made a sound like he was about to have a seizure. "I know what your name is!"

 _Then use it_ , she wanted to say, but held her tongue. She knew her limits with this man, even if all she really wanted to do was shove a fistful of light down his throat.

"She cannot."

For a moment, Alina thought she had misheard. Her ice princess pose forgotten, she whipped her head around to stare at the Darkling.

Honestly, she had doubts about her ability to do that herself, but she was well aware of the Darkling's skill at dissembling. Tell the king one thing, put her up as a figurehead in some way or another until she really was ready to join him - anything to avoid letting the king think he'd _won_. And yet here he was, admitting that the greasy beast of a man was right. And throwing her to the wolves in the process.

"As I thought. In which case, I want her kept away from the borders until she can _truly_ prove herself." He had reverted to avoiding her gaze, putting all of his focus on his pet Grisha now. "Put her to work on the Unsea where she should be, or something. Whatever it is you need to do to make _Alina_ better than she is now, do it."

The Darkling's face was again completely unreadable as he bowed, the shortest dip that propriety would allow. " _Moi tsar_ ," he said, in toneless agreement. The shadow wrapped around Alina's ankle tugged again, and it took all of her concentrated energy to smooth out her own features and echo his bow. The king finally managed to find his dignity, and the nod he gave them both was actually halfway regal this time.

But Alina didn't care about that. All thoughts of outrage and disgust at the pathetic excuse for a monarch had dissipated in the wake of the utter sense of betrayal that had overtaken her. It was all she could do to keep it inside as she listlessly followed the Darkling, all the way back to his quarters, into his private room.

The door clicked shut behind them.

"Alina," he said softly. His fingers curled under her chin, tipping her face up. "Look at me."

She did. And then she punched him in the shoulder.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that section 7 (vii.) has some minor sexual content in it.

**i.**

He didn't stop her, and Alina had the satisfaction of seeing his shoulder jolt back for a second when her fist made contact. Except that it wasn't satisfying at all - it did nothing to ease her confusion, her rage, the fingers of hurt gripping at her, curling its nails in until she wanted to scream from it.

So she hit him again, or tried to, and _that_ was when he moved.

"You're behaving like a child," the Darkling informed her quietly, and it was his fingers wrapping around her now, their pale length blending with her own fair skin for just a second before the light started to seep out from between them.

" _I'm_ not the one using _international politics_ as a means of revenge," she growled, the glow of her power turning his fingers a brilliant red, a different violence to the colour smeared across her mouth. His power surged through her, forcing her light to spill out into the room. She could reel it back in if she wanted to, of course, but she didn't. Right now, she wanted to burn the whole place down.

She could feel the heat building between them and wondered if he knew she was doing this on purpose, that this wasn't some childish loss of control, but a deliberate attempt to make him _let her go_.

The sound of footsteps crashing through the room outside intruded on her thoughts for a moment, followed by confused shouts from the _oprichniki_. They both ignored it, brown eyes locked on grey as shadows snarled through the air around them, wrapping over the point of contact.

Alina felt the cool pressure, inexorably packing her light back up into a box, to be slid under a bed somewhere. She remembered being a child, remembered letting him do this, crying to him afterwards. But no matter his assertions now, she wasn't a child. Not anymore.

Sheets of light poured in through his open window, weak under the assault of the approaching twilight, but still there for her to use. She gathered it to her with a wide sweep of the hand not in his grasp; thinking of Genya and her careful, perfect repair work, she shaped it into needles. Not trying to overwhelm the Darklings shadows, but to poke holes in them.

It worked, in a fashion. She watched his eyebrows twitch together in something that she knew was surprise, before a single, hard look failed to cow her. Then he was letting go of her, and the darkness that followed the sharp clap of his hands was complete. Alina let out a low cry as her power recoiled, snapping back into her skin - but no further.

Panting, she sagged back against his doors. Exhausted, triumphant. The power of the Small Science was still hers, even if he was determined to strip the rest of it from her.

"What," he said, the ice in his voice threatening to pierce her, "were you hoping to achieve with that display?"

Alina's lips curved up in a slash of a smirk. She reached up carefully to tuck a curl that had come loose back into its pin. Fractured light from one of her rings danced across his face, but he didn't flinch. Of course he didn't.

"I wanted you to let go," she said, once she was sure that the words would come out steady.

Something pinched at his face, some emotion that was there and gone again before she even had time to register it properly. "You could have asked."

"I'm not in an asking mood. And you're obviously in a taking one. How could you do that to me? You didn't just embarrass me, you _undermined me_."

"I wouldn't have had to, if you hadn't put him on the verge of apoplexy. The king must be managed, not pushed and prodded and intimidated."

"Oh, that's rich. As though you aren't the very definition of intimidation. Look at you!"

There was a brief pause, as Alina did just that. The Darkling's expression, since cleared of that flash of emotion, said that their brief altercation hadn't affected him in the slighted. But a few extra strands had slipped out of the tie that held his hair back, the rise and fall of his chest indicating that the rate of his breathing had ticked up, just a little.

Triumph surged through her once again, although she kept it to herself. Others would still be intimidated of him, surely. But Alina refused.

"Whatever the king fears from me, he still believes that he has the upper hand." His voice was deathly soft, low enough that the _oprichniki_ outside - who had apparently concluded that what was what going on in the room was none of their business - wouldn't be able to hear. "He considers me a threat that he can handle, and an integral part of that illusion is letting him think he has won on occasion. I know you have observed this before, Alina. You aren't stupid."

It took a beat or two for Alina to register why that statement made her want to bare her teeth and snarl like a wild animal. Because the implication, of course, was that if she disagreed with him she was an idiot. Her first instinct was to hit him again, but after freeing herself from his grasp once, she wasn't entirely sure that she'd be able to do it again.

Instead, she took a breath, tucking her hands behind her back so he wouldn't see the way they curled into fists. She could do this. She could handle him.

"I'm not stupid," she agreed quietly. "Even if I disagree with you, it won't make me stupid. There are a million concessions you could have made to the king. If my behaviour was really that much of an issue, we could have discussed it in private. But you had to - what? Reassert your control over me? Do you trust me so little?"

He stepped closer then, and something about his sheer presence made her fingers twitch. She kept them where they were, though, not taking her eyes off his for a second. Another loop of hair had slid out of its clip; she watched the way his gaze slid towards it, his hand gently brushing her cheek as he tucked it back into place.

"I trust you more than I trust anyone, Alina."

 _Except Baghra._ She nearly corrected him out loud, but - no, maybe he meant what he said. He couldn't trust Baghra to follow him blindly, after all. Not like the Sun Summoner. "Saying it doesn't make it so, Darkling. Trusting people means telling them things."

He made her want to shiver, the way he looked at her then, so much closer than he as before. But not with anything warm. No, he was all ice right now, and her without any means of defence.

"Does it."

Two words, and they were enough to make her throat seize with sudden fear. Alina scrambled over her secrets, wondering which one he was referring to, wondering if he knew all of them, or if this was another test, trying to sneak them out of her. She kept her mouth clamped shut, and after a moment or two, he stepped back.

She found herself leaning against the doors again, watching his dark form as it moved away from her, towards the pale light now only oozing through the windows. Like her, his hands were tucked behind his back, although his fingers were relaxed.

"I'll be leaving again tomorrow," he remarked conversationally, as though he hadn't just threatened to pry inside her and pull out all the things she was keeping from him. "Grisha, more than anyone, need to know that the sacrifices they make are not forgotten."

It took her a moment, caught up in replaying an old conversation with Baghra. _I don't keep your secrets._ Caught up in deeper puzzles than the one she had left that morning, Alina had almost forgotten about Ivan. Ivan, and Dmitri.

"You're taking Ivan," she said, sounding the words out slowly, as everything clicked into place. "And leaving me here, while you deal with the raiders who killed his brother."

It was a genius plan. Alina almost wanted to applaud it, even as she wanted to hit him again. Dmitri had been stationed at one of the borders. The king had forbidden her anywhere near them, emboldened by the Darkling backing down. She would be separated from Ivan, even as the Darkling shifted his loyalties by granting him revenge on the barbarians who had murdered the last of his family.

And Alina had been so self-assured of her own importance, she hadn't seen it coming. She was a part of his master plan, after all. Why undermine her to further other ends? Other ends should be undermined for _her_ sake. But the Darkling was over a hundred years old - what was a summer, after he had waited so long for her to show up?

A summer without Ivan, and so a summer with less distraction. A summer in which to _prove_ herself, as the king had put it.

The Darkling said nothing, did nothing, remained staring out the window as the sun began to steal it's light back over the horizon.

" _Saints._ " Even Alina wasn't sure if she spat the word, or laughed it. "If you wanted me not to see him, you could have just asked. Who do you think is more important to me, him or you?"

He _chuckled_. She could have strangled him, watching the last of the sun limn his silhouette as he finally turned back towards her. "Alina." The way he said her name was indulgent, and she was reminded of all the _solntses_ and _solnyshkos_ stored in her memory. "I am not petty enough, nor childish enough, to care who you spend your time with. Ivan is a good soldier, and a better Grisha. He has suffered a loss, which I intend to redress. Any connection between the two of you is purely coincidental."

She almost believed him. And quite honestly, she couldn't put her finger on why she didn't. Maybe because everything about her theory had fallen into place so perfectly. Maybe because she had been tested on too many occasions to believe he had no more ulterior motives than 'control the king, control my Grisha'. Or maybe…

Maybe she wanted him to care who she spent her time with. Maybe it was just something as simple as her own petty and childish side.

"Is there anything else you want to discuss? Or should I reassure our guards that we haven't killed each other?"

Finally, Alina convinced her fingers to uncurl from her palms, winding them around the cool gold of the door handle instead. "Nothing you're going to give me a straight answer to."

His answering sigh followed her all the way back to her own quarters.

She didn't sleep well that night, either.

 

**ii.**

Ivan was packed and ready to go when she showed up on his doorstep the next morning. That was the nature of most Grisha, she supposed. Always ready to move on. It was a skill that Alina probably needed to pick up - assuming she was ever allowed to leave the Little Palace again.

Of course, it was only after some distance from the Darkling that she had remembered what the king had said about the Shadowfold, and if she had been in a better frame of mind, she would have tried bringing that up to her mentor instead. But it seemed that he wasn't the only one incapable of having an adult conversation, and returning to him now after the way they'd parted felt too much like begging.

She would stay in the Little Palace, and get - better. The secret she shared with Baghra sat uneasily in her stomach, but there had to be something she could do about that. If she couldn't get stronger, she would improve in other ways.

In the meantime, Ivan was leaving, and she definitely wasn't about to let him do that without saying goodbye.

"I'm sorry I'm not coming," she said softly, sitting on the edge of his bed. He was perched on the edge of his desk, and she tried not to think too hard about how she'd ended up in that position the night before. It wasn't really the time. "There have been some...complications with the king."

The look of disgust on Ivan's was gratifying, if unhelpful. "And the Darkling can't do anything?"

For a whole second, Alina considered telling him everything. But only a second. The strange game of tug of war between her and the Darkling wasn't something that she thought Ivan would be able to appreciate, if he was even able to understand it. It wasn't that Ivan was stupid - far from it. But his politics involved loyalty to the Darkling, and death to Ravka's enemies. Especially the ones responsible for the destruction of his family.

She wouldn't ruin his shot at justice by complicating it with the Darkling's true behaviour. So she sighed, shaking her head. "We have to pick our battles with the man. It wouldn't do for him to get excitable."

"Saints forbid," Ivan muttered darkly. There was a restless sort of energy to him as he shoved his body off the test, stalking across the room towards her. But his touch was soft as he reached out his hand for hers, and it was Alina who pressed her body flush against his once he'd tugged her to her feet. "It would be something, to see you lay waste to the barbarians."

Alina cupped his cheek, before carding her fingers back through the short strands of his hair. They anchored at his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers. "I wouldn't take that from you."

He didn't say anything, but his kiss was hard, feverish. Verbally, he was ignoring the dead elephant in the room, but physically? His anguish slipped from his body through hers, tangling around her chest almost like he was using his own ability on her.

"Stay alive," she murmured, much later. "Do you understand me?"

_No killing yourself for your honour, or whatever else it is that people who had families do._

He tapped her under the chin with her knuckles, his expression some strange twist between wry and bitter. "What could kill me?"

It wasn't a comfort.

 

**iii.**

It took longer than it should have for Alina to figure out what was missing from the Little Palace. In her defence, she had a lot on her mind. And news didn't tend to filter down to the area of the library she had sequestered herself in.

It was only after her third or fourth session with Botkin that she realised she didn't _hurt_ quite as much as she should have.

The Darkling had taken Zoya with him.

Her shriek of pure frustration had her _oprichniki_ kicking her door down. She struggled briefly for an explanation, before coming to the conclusion that there was no truth or lie she could tell that would explain the situation away without further embarrassment. So she directed the guards to find a way to fix the door, and swept out of the room.

She wasn't even sure where she was going until she ended up outside the Durasts' area. But taking a peek through the door revealed no Genya staring mournfully at David, so she braced herself for a trip to the Grand Palace.

Of course, she always could have sent a servant. Later, she would wish she had, as though maybe the obvious would burn less if she got the information second hand. But she went herself, because it was the middle of the day, and with no special events upcoming for the queen, that meant Genya would be free.

Except her rooms were locked. Frowning, Alina briefly considered melting the lock off or something, but even she could register that as being completely ridiculous. She tugged on a passing servant's sleeve instead, gesturing at the door.

"Excuse me, but do you know where Genya Safin might be? I need to talk to her."

Possible, the servant was new. Or she just wasn't that recognisable - it wasn't as though she kept her _kefta_ themed wardrobe strictly uniform, after all, and she was in black besides. Non-Grisha had no reason to understand that significance out of context. Whatever the reason, she got a sneer and an eyeroll from the man as he delicately pulled his sleeve from her grasp.

"Where do you think?"

It took less than a second for the obvious to slam together in her head, and in that instant, she could have killed the man. And it must have shown in her face, because the sneer was gone, replaced by a stammered apology as he practically tripped over herself to get away from him.

Genya was with the king. Alina didn't doubt that next time she saw the older girl, she would have some new piece of jewellery.

 

**iv.**

_Ivan_

_It's probably wrong to hope that something terrible (but non-lethal) happens to Zoya while she's away, isn't it?_

_I hope you are well._

_\- Alina_

* * *

_Alina,_

_If it is, then I have been wrong at least ten times this week alone. If she weren't so powerful, I would have strangled her by now. Not that I've stopped because she's stronger than I am, but because she's useful._

_We will have set up camp by the time this gets to you._

_\- Ivan_

* * *

_Ivan_

_We can live in hope together, then._

_I've been in the library a lot. I think there's an imprint of my body in the dust - not because I've disturbed it, but because it's been settling around me. Some of these books are so old, I'm almost afraid to touch them._

_Any luck?_

_\- Alina_

* * *

_Alina,_

_She's been disgustingly successful so far. I'll let you know the second she falls on her face, I swear._

_What have you been doing in the library? Knowing you, I imagine that_ almost _stopped you, but didn't exactly manage it._

_Not yet. But soon._

_\- Ivan_

* * *

_Ivan,_

_You had better._

_Personal project. You have an amplifier, don't you?_

_All right. Good luck._

_\- Alina_

* * *

_Ivan,_

_It's been a two and a half weeks. If you're dead, I will find your grave, and I will resurrect you, and I will punch you in the face._

_If you're not, I will kill you. Write back to me, already._

\- _Alina_

* * *

_Ivan,_

_I know you're alive. You're not the only one I write to._

_Please._

_\- Alina_

* * *

_Alina,_

_We found them. They are dead._

_I will see you in less than a fortnight. You can kill me then._

_\- Ivan_

 

**v.**

"We are not," Baghra growled, "continuing this conversation. I have said no. That is the end of it."

The heat in the cabin was oppressive, but that might have Alina's own slow building anger. All those weeks in the library had pointed her in one direction, and yet she had met a brick wall in the form of Baghra the second the word had slipped from her mouth.

She could have written to the Darkling, of course. But after asking him to update her on Ivan's status after her - after the _corporalnik_ had stopped writing to her, she wasn't about to ask for any more favours. Especially not one of this magnitude.

That left Baghra. Alina had expected her to be difficult, but she hadn't expected this. She probably should have. People had been shutting her down point blank with alarming frequency, lately.

"Baghra, I don't think you understand-"

Alina cut herself off. She knew _that_ one was a mistake, but unfortunately she hadn't caught it before the words left her mouth. Baghra whipped on her with a speed her ancient aura belied, and Alina found herself stepping inadvertently back.

"You don't think I understand a Grisha's craving for power? You don't think I've watched you these past eight years, and not known _your_ craving? Tell me this, girl - what sad little corner of your mind is saying that the power you have now isn't enough? What have you attempted to do that is so grand, the Sun Summoner can't manage it?"

"The Shadowfold-"

"I said what have you _attempted_ , not what have you wasted daylight dreaming about. Give me a fitting answer to that, and maybe then I'll consider talking about this with you. Until then, be content with what you are." The old woman turned her back on Alina, staring at the dancing shadows her fire was throwing up on the wall. "You'll save us all a lot of trouble if you can manage that."

She could already hear the words her younger self would have yelled. _Fine! I don't need your help anyway!_ But she had done her fair share of shouting at people in the last little while, and it hadn't gotten her anywhere. The one thing she had gained - a summer to improve herself - she'd failed at miserably, anyway. Sure, she had split her time between more military study as well as researching the Small Science, but how was she supposed to prove any strategic ability when she wasn't allowed to go to the borders?

It wasn't as though a war was about to erupt in the middle of Ravka, after all.

"Please, Baghra."

But Baghra said nothing. They stood there in silence for Saints only knew how long. The conclusion was foregone, of course; eventually, Alina turned on her heel, shutting the door quietly behind her. The only person who could win a battle of wills with Baghra was the Darkling. And even then, not all of the time.

 

**vi.**

Alina glumly piled sugar onto her porridge, only half listening as Marie and Nadia prattled next to her. Every now and then, Nadia's gaze would flicker over the other girl, and Alina didn't think it was out of jealousy. She wondered if Marie had noticed yet, and decided that she hadn't. Marie was _definitely_ the sort of 'friend' to hold that thing over someone.

It was almost enough to make her miss Zoya.

Caught up in these musings as she was, it took her a moment or two to realise that the servant - in white, from the Grand Palace - sidling nearby actually wanted to speak with her. Frowning slightly, she gestured impatiently for the girl to approach. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a squeak as the girl dropped a piece of paper in front of her and dashed off again without waiting to be dismissed.

There were only two beautifully scripted words on the page, but it was enough to make Alina knock her chair over, she stood so far. _They're back_ , Genya had told her, and Alina was out of the Grisha school's mess hall before anyone could ask her what the matter was.

She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to be a normal sixteen year old girl whose sweetheart was returning from war. She could run into that hall in the Little Palace and throw herself at him without care or concern.

But she wasn't, and it wasn't just Ivan returning. Zoya would be there, no doubt with a long list of achievements ready to rival what Alina had managed that summer. And beyond Zoya would be the Darkling.

_What sad little corner of your mind is saying that the power you have now isn't enough?_

The part with him in it. Or at least, the part that wanted - _needed_ \- his approval. Needed him to stand up to the king on her behalf, needed him to tell her she was ready for everything he needed instead of having her argue him into it. Needed-

She came to the doors of the Little Palace mess hall, and took a quick, even breath. She wasn't here to see Ivan, specifically. She wanted to check in with everyone - she had made friends amongst the Darkling's finest Grisha, after all. Like Fedyor! There were plenty of people she could be aiming to visit. Thus reassured, she pushed open the doors.

Alina had never actually eaten here, even though her rooms were almost as close to the place as the Darkling's. She hadn't even been sure that the returning Grisha would be here - but it had been a lucky guess. Less lucky was the fact that her guess was confirmed by catching sight of Zoya's flawless, beautiful face first. She had always been stunning, but now she seemed almost to glow.

Those full lips pulled up, her smile just barely skirting the edges of a smirk. "Alina! What a surprise to see you here."

There was no subtle emphasis on a particular syllable, nothing to indicate a biting remark, but Alina felt it anyway. _What are you doing here, when you are not yet a proper Grisha?_ As though Zoya had graduated any sooner than a few months ago. As though Alina hadn't been out in the field before her.

But there was something about her that explained the extra confidence - like Zoya had needed the boost! The very air around her seemed charged, and Alina had the feeling that if she were to touch the other girl, she'd come away with a static shock.

That smile deepened, as Zoya casually reached up to push the weight of her hair back off her face. The sleeve of her _kefta_ slipped down as she did so, revealing a bracelet of silver and bone embracing the girl's slim wrist.

"Alina."

Forget static, her whole body felt electrified. She had the dim satisfaction of seeing Zoya's smile falter as Alina's attention started to slip from her, and then the Sun Summoner's focus was bent entirely on Ivan, standing to her left.

He looked exactly the same. No better nor worse - no new scars, not even the slightest scratch or bruise.

 _You asshole_ , she wanted to cry. _You absolute jerk_. But every Grisha in the hall had at least one eye on her at the moment, and the last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene.

So she inclined her head at him, and had the much less dim satisfaction of seeing his jaw clench. "Ivan. It's good to see you." She glanced around at the rest of the Grisha, making sure to meet Zoya's gaze before seeking out Fedyor, and a few others. "It's good to see all of you. I wanted to apologise personally for not being able to see out this season's campaign with you. Unfortunately, there's only one of me, and I can't be everywhere I'm needed at once."

She gauged the room, and found most of them swallowing that easily enough. Everyone knew the king could be ridiculous, of course, but Alina doubted that even Grisha would suspect him of holding her back because she was _too_ threatening. Most of them had seen what she could do, or heard of it. They wouldn't be able to conceive of her not being put to good use unless there was a very good reason for it.

"Come on, then." Fedyor was smiling at her. "Sit. Let us fill you in on what you missed out on, Sun Summoner."

Alina flashed him back the most brilliant smile she could manage. "I'd like that a lot, if no one minds?"

No one at the _corporalki_ table minded, at least, and that's where it was assumed she would be sitting. A scowling Ivan moved in to shadow her left, just as an equally scowling Zoya brushed past her right. It took all of Alina's self control not to jump as the static zapped through her.

She spent the rest of the morning clutching Ivan's hand under the table, trying not to think about that bracelet of silver and bone.

 

**vii.**

"It took you all afternoon to come and see me?"

Ivan was trying for a smirk, like he didn't really mean what he was saying. But Alina could see it etched in the tense lines of his face, the way he held his shoulders. She shut the door behind her with a sharp _click_ , locking it before she grabbed a fistful of his undershirt. At some point, he'd removed the _kefta_.

"I am so unbelievably tired of men telling me I'm not where they want me to be," she muttered, kissing him. It was just as sharp as the shutting door. "I'm here. And I didn't see you wandering up to visit me, either."

One hand dragged through her loose curls, tipping her face so he could see her better. The other was at her waist, her hip, curving around to the small of her back, demanding she be closer to him. Alina complied, if for no other reason than she had just spent the rest of summer feeling _terrible_ , and this - this wasn't terrible

It was actually the opposite of terrible. And it was Ivan, who had contributed to that awfulness with her having to worry about if he was alive, or - once the Darkling had told her he had survived - if his revenge had somehow cut out the part of him that wanted her.

"You said you had things to do." His mouth dropped the words on her mouth, her jaw, that one spot underneath her ear. Alina pressed in closer.

"Sorry for not-" She sucked in a breath (sharp) as his lips closed over her earlobe, and who had decided that part of her body should be so sensitive? "Sorry for not dragging you off like a cavewoman in front of all your friends."

He huffed, and she shivered at the hot air against her neck. "You think I care what they think?"

She tangled her own free hand in his hair, tugging his head back until he was looking at her. "I think you know I have to."

The words felt thick on her tongue, and the bad taste of them must have shown on her face because his touch became instantly gentler. The fingers in her hair became a caress, the hand at her back cradling. She surprised herself with a smile, bumping her forehead gently against his.

"I didn't know you did soft."

"You'd be surprised at what I'd do for you."

Again, he was trying for that smug, superior note, and again the truth of his words seeped through. At least, the truth as he believed it. Alina dropped her head, pressing biting kisses down his neck, remembering the bruises she'd worked into his skin the last time they'd had a chance to be so close.

Nearer to reality was that she didn't think she'd be surprised at all. She dragged her nails down his back, the thin material of his undershirt the only thing separating her from digging into skin. He groaned, and the caress of her hair was gone as he demanded another kiss from her and she gave it freely, finally letting go of his shirt in order to work her hand up under it.

He had the sun under his skin, or at least, that was what it felt like. It made her pull at his shirt a little more impatiently, made him chuckle against her mouth and pull away for a brief second in order to help her out. She watched the bear claw necklace bounce off the hard plane of his chest, and a sudden, primal hunger surged through her. Zoya's silver bangle fluttered through her mind, a briefer flash of grey eyes and a grip on her wrist. She practically threw herself at Ivan.

There wasn't much hope for her _kefta_ after that, black clothing puddling on the ground as she shoved him towards the bed. The back of his knees hit the mattress, but before she could take advantage of the momentum, he'd made use of his superior strength to turn them around. All of the air _whooshed_ out of her lungs as her own back hit the mattress.

And there was a pause. Only brief, barely noticeable, because Alina put a quick stop to whatever moral concerns Ivan was potentially having by grabbing his hand and pulling him on top of her.

"I'm not a patient person," she told him, as their legs tangled together. "Don't pretend like you are either. I know what I'm doing."

He snorted, resting his weight on one hand as the other started to edge up her own undershirt. His necklace dangled between them, swinging between light and shadow. She sucked in a breath, stomach jumping, as his fingers painted lines over her abdomen, drawing her attention back to his face. "I should have known you would be this demanding."

Alina pushed herself up onto her elbows, one eyebrow raising with her. "If that's a problem for you, you can go."

"This _is_ my room." A quick tug made use of the fact that the material was no longer trapped under her weight, and after a brief fight with her arms, the shirt was off. She wasn't wearing anything else underneath it - why bother, sometimes, when it was hot and she was small? - and the quiet curse from Ivan said that he approved.

Not that she did it for his approval. Still, it was nice to be appreciated, and then Alina's already dizzy thoughts were completely derailed by his mouth on her breast, his tongue on her nipple. His knee found its way between her thighs, and the pleasure that swept through her had a new edge to it than when she was in bed by herself with her hand.

A moan spilled from between her lips to be collected by his, a brief, hungry kiss that was broken only by the way Alina hissed as his weight accidentally pressed the claw into her flesh.

Was this too soon? Did a relationship count as weeks, months old when you'd only been able to communicate by most of it by letter? Did a relationship even _matter_ when you were Grisha, when there were Healers who could take care of any problems, when everyone was beautiful and no one knew how to form proper, meaningful connections anymore? Alina shuddered, swamped by another wave of heat (sharp again) as Ivan ground his knee against her, or maybe it was her rolling her hips down. She didn't know any more.

Did it matter?

"Alina," Ivan's panting voice was rough in her ear, and he was hard against her thigh. "Are you with me?"

Her smile surprised her again. "Feeling...neglected?"

His eyes were dark, as he pulled back to look at her. "Feeling like I don't know how far you want to take this."

"Ah." She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, like that would help her think, and not just bring the sensations running through her into sharper focus. It did both. Sort of. For a moment, all she could think about was the bear claw. The bracelet. The grey- "Not sex. Not yet. I'm not ready."

She wasn't even sure if that was true, but she didn't think you were supposed to be thinking what she was when you were about to have sex for the first time, and that was close enough to not ready. She wondered if Ivan would leave then, if she'd somehow brought everything else to a complete and shuddering halt with her words. But all he did was shift his knee so he wasn't pressed quite so tightly against her.

She mourned the absence.

"That leaves a few other things on the table," he managed to say after a moment. "If you're interested."

Alina looked at him then, really looked at him. The handsome curve of his face, the long, hard lines of his body. Saints, but he was gorgeous, and there was more to what she felt for him than just that. She didn't know what it was, exactly, but there had been a fist of ice clenched around her heart when he had stopped writing back to her, and she had shared his misery on more than one occasion. Each time, in fact, it got worse. And that meant something, she was sure of it. And-

And it _felt_ really good. Wasn't that allowed? To just feel good for once, without all the added pressures and complications? All of those would surely come flooding back later, but right now, Ivan wanted to make her feel good, and Alina wanted to let him.

She ran a light hand through his hair, letting her nails scrape over his scalp. She watched the shiver chase itself down his spine. "I'm definitely interested," she said finally, when she was done teasing. "Why don't you show me?"

He pressed his smirk into the centre of her chest, before his mouth began to move lower, and lower still.

Show her, he did.

 

**viii.**

The time was - well, before lunch, and that was the main thing. Ivan watched her pick up her clothes from the bed, looking like the cat who got both the canary and the cream. She found his shirt and threw it at his face with an eyeroll, unable to stand looking at him for much longer.

"If you were any more smug, your face would fall off."

"I didn't know smugness caused that in humans."

Alina found his trousers and threw those as well, even as she hopped back into her leggings. She felt sticky, and sweaty, and pretty rank all round, but she wasn't about to go walking through the halls of the Little Palace anything less than fully dressed.

"I'm leaving you here," she informed him. "There are some things I need to see to. When you're done doing that with your face, you can come and find me."

"Things?" The smugness fell away almost immediately, and he sat up properly. "What kind of things, exactly?"

Alina rearranged the folds of her _kefta_ , trying to remember the tricks Genya had taught her to get cloth to lie flat. It worked. Sort of. "I haven't seen the Darkling yet."

"Alina…"

"He isn't my keeper! And it would be a shitty Sun Summoner who had to run back to see him the second he returned from any kind of absence." She returned to Ivan for, stealing a brief kiss. "It's fine. We're fine. And I will see you later."

She should have noticed that he was still frowning when she left. But her gaze, as she swung out the door, had slipped lower. The last thing she saw before it clicked behind her was the bear claw.

A wolf whistle startled her out of her thoughts. Alina felt her face flush bright red, but of course she couldn't _see_ whichever of her guards had decided now was the time to introduce humour to the job. She picked a direction anyway; giving it a rude gesture, she was rewarded with a masculine chuckle.

Alina supposed that if man got shot for you, he was allowed to tease you a little. It didn't make her face any less red as she strode back to her room.

It took a full hour to get herself presentable again, although a good bit of it was spent soaking in a bath and trying not to think too hard about Ivan's mouth. She had other, far more important things to be focussing on, and it was with that in mind that she picked out her outfit.

Nothing trimmed in gold - she didn't want to be too obvious with how important this was to her, how very necessary it was. She would not go to him desperate. In the end, she decided on a dressier _kefta_ in black, but still with the boots instead of some of her fancier shoes.

It would have to do. It was still before lunch, but only just. Alina told herself she didn't know why she was sticking to that arbitrary timeline, and almost believed it. The walk to the Darkling's quarters was only a few steps from her doorway, but for some reason, it seemed to take forever. She drew a deep breath, and pushed her way into the receiving room.

Empty. Of course. She wondered if he knew she was coming somehow, if he was intentionally making this as difficult as possible. Either way, she'd started this now. She wouldn't stop.

He was at the window when she pushed open the doors to his private chamber, and for a brief, dizzying moment, she wondered if the past few weeks had all been a hallucination. Perhaps this was the same night of their confrontation, and she had come to her senses to return to him, to talk things out like adults.

But he turned to look at her then, and there was something about those grey eyes that made her have to sit on another blush, prompted by something that definitely hadn't happened before the last time she'd been in this room.

The Darkling inclined his head to her. "Alina."

He was waiting. To see what she said next, what she did. And a large part of Alina couldn't help but wonder if he didn't already know, if he hadn't somehow plotted out her every action, long before it had even occurred to her to take them.

She nodded back. "Darkling."

"How can I help you?"

 

**ix.**

"I need an amplifier."

 

**x.**

And he smiled at her.

"That's what I thought."


	16. Chapter 16

**i.**

Alina squeezed her eyes shut. _Breathe_ , she told her rising temper. _Deep breaths. If your lungs are busy taking deep breaths, you can't use them to yell at him_.

"If you knew," she said slowly, "that I wanted an amplifier, why didn't you _come_ to me about it?"

"An amplifier is not a toy. Or a piece of jewellery. Did you expect me to kill a bear for you and give it to you for your birthday?"

She scowled, and then coerced her face into impassiveness right after. Scowling was for children, and she needed every advantage she could get with this man. "If I were to get an amplifier, _you_ wouldn't be killing it at all. Unless you really think I'm that incapable."

It was supposed to be a challenge. She was uncomfortably aware that it sounded like a question.

"We both know you are more than capable, Alina. I was making a point. That's all."

That was never all, but Alina sat on the rebellious mutter before it could slip past her lips. As much as she wanted to insist that the Darkling didn't control her, that she would get an amplifier regardless of his permission, they both knew that was a lie. He hadn't shackled her in any physical way, but he didn't need to.

 _Your chains are much finer_ , a quiet, insidious voice whispered to her. _And even you don't know how tightly they hold you._

"You're agreeing, then?" she managed finally. "That I should have an amplifier?"

"I agree that you should have a _specific_ amplifier."

Was that hope kindling in her chest? Or fear?

"What does that mean, exactly?"

His mouth curved up in a way that only highlighted the beautiful planes of his face. Disconcertingly, Alina realised that he looked just a few years older than her. She had always relegated the Darkling to the category of 'adult' without thinking about it too hard, but when he smiled at her like that, it was difficult to remember that he was about a century older than her.

He had been wrapping teenage girls around his finger since before she was born, and if she was going to catch up to him, she needed to remember that.

"It means that you are the Sun Summoner," he said softly. "And you will not have some random _bear_ for an amplifier."

 

**ii.**

"What do you know about Morozova's herd?"

Baghra's stillness lasted less than a second. In the weird, flickering atmosphere of her hut, where the light from the fire fought constantly against the twisting shadows, it could have been an illusion. A mistake.

It wasn't. So when Baghra barked a laugh, Alina remained unmoved. "What do you care for children's stories? I thought you were all grown up now."

"So you do know something."

"I know what every peasant who has to feed themselves stories instead of food knows. Why are you asking me about such foolishness?"

"You know why."

Silence. Baghra stared into the red light of her fire, and when she finally spoke again, her voice was heavy. "You sound more like him every day, girl."

Alina snorted. "If that was true, you would have told me already. You always argue, but you never say no to him."

"Perhaps you should think about why that is before you continue emulating him." The woman's sigh rocked her whole rickety frame, and in that moment she looked exactly as old as Alina knew she had to be. "Morozova's herd is a legend. A story told by common folk to give them hope that they might one day escape their lot in life. White deer that appear only at twilight, and grant wishes to hunters skilled enough to catch them, and kind enough to let them go. _Not_ little Grisha girls who aren't content with the power of the sun at their fingertips."

Her tone was acerbic, but Alina ignored it, frowning. "The Darkling just told me about the stag."

"You didn't take him at his word that that was all there was to know?"

"Like you said. It's a peasant's story. I just wanted to know if there was anything else you could tell me about the herd. Why the stag is so much more powerful than any other amplifier that's likely to be found, for example."

"And I told you that when you could tell me what it was you needed an amplifier for so badly, I would talk to you about them. You haven't satisfied me, Alina Starkov, so why should I indulge you?"

The phantom sensation of yet another chain tightening around her, holding her back, pricked at Alina's temper. More than pricked; it snapped and bit and if she could have physically hit something with her frustration, she would have.

"Because _he_ doesn't think I'm strong enough yet. Because after annihilating an attack, he can still tell the king I'm not ready to fight for Ravka, and the king will believe him, and I can't do anything to change his mind. Because he grabbed my wrist once, and it took the entire force of my will to make him let go. I've reached the limits of my power, and it still can't match his."

"He is a Darkling," Baghra pointed out, and there was a careful, curious note to her voice. "There isn't a Grisha in the world whose powers have matched his."

Alina set her jaw, lifting her chin. That thrashing anger fed her words as she spoke again. "There hasn't been a Sun Summoner before, either."

 

**interlude.**

"You're slipping, boy."

He tilted his head at his mother, studying her unchanging face. Her expression said that he should share her concern, but unless she explained herself, for the time being he felt only curiosity.

"And what makes you say that?"

Alina had visited today. He had expected to see her come away frustrated again, but instead she had seem...mollified. She had indulged in her latest distraction again afterwards, meeting Ivan by the lake. At least, he assumed that was what she had done - he hadn't stayed to observe, beyond taking in her general mood. He respected her privacy, for the most part.

"Your little pet is no longer satisfied with being a pet. Or have you grown so old that you forget how you chafed at being under anyone's thumb, once upon a time?"

He resisted the urge to scowl. Between her tone and the look on her face, it was clear that his mother thought she should be using present tense, rather than past.

"She is young. Or do you suggest I leave her without guidance?"

"I suggest that the carrot only works so long as the donkey thinks it can reach it. Tempt her too many times without fulfillment, and she will look elsewhere for food."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I have always found good results with the stick."

His mother snorted. "Then you would be making the mistake of thinking this girl a donkey. She loves you, boy, but she loves her power more. You taught her that. You have, I think, taught her more than you realise."

 _She loves you, boy_.

He turned that thought over in his mind. It wasn't the first time it had occurred to him, but in the light of his mother's warning, it bore further thought. He inclined his head towards her, turned, headed for the door.

"You've given me much to consider. Thank you."

Her sigh followed him into the cool air of the evening.

 

**iii.**

Tree trunks, Alina was learning, were not that comfortable.

But making out against a tree trunk was less about being comfortable, and more about getting as close as possible to someone, as soon as possible. She hooked one leg over Ivan's hip, dragging him flush against her as his fingers dug into her hips.

"If you forget to write to me again," she gasps into his mouth, "I really will kill you this time."

"Are you sure?" The curve of his mouth was delicious as it pressed a trail of kisses along her jawline. "We could always come to some other arrangement."

The heat in his voice had her squeezing her eyes shut for a second, her leg tightening, as though he could get any closer. He grunted a little, chuckled right after. That didn't help.

"I am not trading letters for sex, you ass." Not that they'd been _having_ sex, but getting any more detailed about what they had been getting up to (anywhere other than her own thoughts) was still a little beyond her.

"A man can dream."

She punched him, grabbed his _kefta_ , kissed him again. He didn't seem to mind the former too much in view of the latter, and time forgot them for a while longer. At least, until the sound of a throat clearing reminded it of their existence.

Ivan probably would have been content to ignore it, but Alina jabbed him in the side, pulling her mouth away from his and resting her chin on his shoulder as she looked over it.

"It's cold," she informed Genya, doing her best not to smirk at the look of vague disgust on her friend's face. "Ivan is doing me a kindness in helping me stay warm."

There was a snort of amusement from Ivan, before his lips eased gently over the side of her neck. She felt a flush creep up her face as Genya raised an eyebrow at her, and poked him in the side again.

"If you're busy, I can leave," she said, her voice deceptively light. "Or fetch you some blankets."

Alina felt Ivan open his mouth against her skin, and this time dug her fingers in hard enough to make him wince. Whatever he'd been about to say, it hadn't been nice, and she didn't put up with that kind of thing around Genya.

"No, we were just saying goodbye." She lifted her head, turned it so she could kiss Ivan on the cheek and murmur, "you have places to be, anyway. Don't get yourself killed out there."

"Who do you think you're talking to?" he breezed back, stepping away. Alina watched him leave, wondering if she should feel more...bereft. Did other girls send their sweethearts off to war without more than a faint pang of disappointment?

She turned back to Genya, who was wrinkling her nose at her. "What?"

"It's a _forest_ , Alina."

"It's…" Well, she couldn't argue with that. Alina pushed off the tree and looped her arm through Genya's instead, pulling the other girl into step with her as she headed back towards the Little Palace. "It's a nice forest?"

"I think we both know that you are worth far more than _forests_ , nice or not," Genya sniffed.

Alina laughed. "I've missed you too, Genya."

A small smile of satisfaction played on the older girl's lips. Alina leaned into her shoulder, taking a quiet joy in her presence as the two of them made their way back to her quarters. She lingered for a second too long on the sight of the Darkling's closed doors as the passed them, and cursed internally - Genya's bright gaze missed nothing.

"So," the redhead said brightly, once they were safe in Alina's bedroom. "Ivan is leaving, but I haven't heard any talk of the Darkling returning to the front. Any of the fronts. What is that about, I wonder?"

Alina nudged her, and regretted it instantly as Genya steered her onto the stool before her mirror. She didn't bother to put up a protest, though, knowing it was futile. She didn't think there had been a single occasion in the past eight years where she had been able to stop the other girl from playing with her hair.

"You don't wonder at all. If you want to ask, just ask," she shot back, as Genya idly twisted locks of hair around her fingers. Gentle waves sprang into curls, and Alina groaned. "You're going to make me look thirteen again."

"You were an adorable thirteen year old. Very bouncy."

Alina groaned again.

"I am asking, by the way," Genya added. "The queen has been keeping me so busy with ridiculous peasant tea parties - don't ask, please - that I haven't had time to keep up with the gossip about your strange little threesome."

" _Genya_!"

Her laugh was a rich, vibrant thing. "You might have learned how to wrap the Little Palace around your pinky finger, darling, but you're no match for Grand Palace infighting. Honestly, it's a good thing. The only way to win that particular game, is not to play. The one thing they know for sure is that you _terrify_ the king. Everything else is pure guesswork."

 _Terrify the king_?

"...Good."

Alina had half expected her voice to come out fierce, to echo the violence on her lips every time she saw the king. But instead, it was a cold thing, freezing her face into something impassive. And for a time they were silent, as Genya worked her fingers around Alina's head, leaving a cluster of ringlets in her wake.

"The Darkling has decided there are things he must attend to in Os Alta this season," Alina said finally, remembering that Genya had asked a question. "The king is…"

"Weak."

"Yes."

Genya's face echoed that same coldness, just for a second. And then it was gone, warm curiosity seeping across her beautiful face. She began to rake her fingers gently through the curls she'd created, pulling them out of the ringlets. "And Ivan leaving? I thought he went where the Darkling did."

"Typically, he does. But there are other things the Darkling needs to see done throughout the country. He needs a trustworthy representative. Or at least, as much as he trust anyone. Ivan was a perfect candidate."

Genya snorted. "You know that means Ivan can't think for himself."

Alina watched her eyebrows skate up her forehead in the mirror. "Ex _cuse_ me? Weren't you the one encouraging my feelings for him, once upon a time?"

There was a tug on one of her new curls, which was really more of a wave now. Alina wasn't too sure what the difference between these waves and the ones that had been in her hair before was, but she wasn't about to question Genya about that.

"I was _encouraging_ an appreciation of his physique. I never seriously suggested that you get yourself all emotionally tied up in him and his tragic history."

"I am not emotionally tied up in him." The truth in her words pricked at her, like it was something she should be worried about. "...Should I be?"

"Saints, no." Genya sounded relieved. "A man like that is good for looking at, and not much else. He's a brute, Alina."

 _That_ got her back up, just a little bit. She did like Ivan, after all. A lot, really. If he didn't inspire an urge to talk about her feelings with him ever, she didn't consider that a bad thing. "He's not a brute. His family-"

"Is dead, yes, it's very sad. But whatever sappiness that brings out in him, he only shows it to you."

"Ivan is not _sappy_. With me or without."

"Not a brute, not sappy, what is he then?"

"Perfectly fine," Alina sighed. "Are we done?"

"No." But Genya was silent again as she began to sweep Alina.s hair into an elegant tail. Alina waited, just barely managing patience, for her to spit it out. "He's good to you, then?"

Abruptly, everything in Alina softened, her irritation draining away. "He's a bit rough around the edges," she admitted, "but yes."

Genya let go of the hair with a sigh, dragging her hands down in a sharp motion. Instantly, it was straight again. "All right, then."

Alina was fairly certain that was the closest Ivan was going to get to a blessing.

 

**iv.**

"We haven't been out here in a while."

The autumn air was creeping up on the summoner pavilions, but it was the only thing to join Alina and the Darkling as they walked through them. It made her even more aware of his presence, of the way his arm almost-but-not-quite brushed her shoulder.

"I thought I had done all I could to teach you," he said. His hands were tucked behind his back, face turned pensively up to the sky, and when he spoke, his voice was distant. "I was wrong. For that, I have to apologise."

A flame of anticipation sparked in her chest. Alina didn't exactly stamp it out, but she was careful not to blow it into something larger, too. Instead, she tipped back her head and laughed, the sound sharp in the chill air.

"I'm sorry. I could have sworn you just said you were wrong."

He glanced at her sidelong, and she grinned when she caught the reluctant twitch of his lips. "It has been known to happen. On occasion."

"Once every hundred and twenty years?"

"More in the last eight, I think."

"Ah. They call that flattery, you know." She hesitated, not wanting to put her foot in the rare moment of camaraderie, but not wanting to leave his implication just hanging there, either. "If you were wrong...does that mean you have something else to show me?"

"In a manner of speaking." He nodded to a nearby seat, indicating they should sit down. Alina again noted the distance between them, a mere inch or two. She wondered what would happen if she slid closer. "The king - or the king's advisors, most specifically - isn't wrong about how our border nations will react to you taking action. What you did over the summer - there were no survivors. No one to take word back of how dangerous you've become."

"Then why-?"

"Because you are not yet powerful enough. Your handling of the raiding party was impressive, but it was a raiding party. Could you do that against whole armies? Even if you could, it's likely Fjerda and Shu Han would unite against us. Ravka cannot fight a war on several fronts in her current state."

It was the words _in her current state_ that caught Alina's attention. She had known for some time that the Darkling didn't plan on letting the king serve the rest of his life on the throne. Not unless that life was cut short, at any rate. That knowledge had been the only way she'd been able to reconcile Genya's situation to herself, even as the years passed and it became clear that any promise of partnership from the Darkling had been words to soothe a heartbroken thirteen year old and not much more.

Was the implication of his words that Ravka could fight that war in another state? A state of being ruled by someone actually competent, with enough force of personality to bring the various ministers together, instead of having them bickering and backstabbing all the time?

"You don't know," she found herself saying, twisting on the seat so she could look up at him, force him to meet her gaze. The idea was that it would make them more equal, but she felt more like she was pleading with him. "I haven't even tried yet, you have no idea what I can and can't manage."

His hand on her cheek, a barely there brush, was like a jolt of lightning through her body. Her lips parted, but no words came.

 _Get a hold of yourself_ , she chided inwardly. _It's just your cheek_.

"Would you risk Ravka on that maybe, Alina?"

She felt her eyes flutter shut in defeat. Of course she wouldn't. She never did.

Cool fingers trailed across the plane of her face until they reached a curl of hair. It wasn't, Alina thought, that displaced, but he tucked it back anyway.

"I'm tired," she admitted. "I'm so tired of this, of being unable to do what I was born to do. I'm not even a proper Grisha yet, even though I could wipe the floor with most of your personal Grisha."

He remained silent, perhaps sensing that she wasn't done.

"Was this always your plan? The stag? If it was, why not just tell me that? Why waste all these years training me to be a splinter under your nail when you could have had a pretty, ignorant pawn?"

Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel his proximity in the heat of his body, the sigh that puffed softly across her face. Slowly, she let her eyes creak open, half afraid of what might happen if she didn't.

She wasn't going to examine what the other half might be.

"You challenge me." He wasn't that close after all, but the intensity in that grey gaze more than made up for it. "Especially in these past few years. It has been...a trial. But you don't - can't, yet - understand what it is to live without challenge, Alina."

The intensity had slipped from his gaze, turned distant and unfocused. And in that moment she felt the weight of every one of his hundred and something years, the lonely, even agonising toll they had taken.

She snorted. Without thinking about it too hard, she tipped forward, resting her forehead against his chest.

"So you let me grow up to be me because you found me entertaining?"

It was the faintest touch, the next thing to nothing. It would have been so easy to brush off, to ignore. But the Darkling pressed his lips to the top of Alina's head, and for just a second, she allowed herself to relax into him.

"You could never be mere entertainment," he murmured. "And that is why I am going to teach you the Cut."

For a moment, they stayed there. Darkling and Sun Summoner, caught up in each other and the fading twilight. And then Alina pulled away, startled brown eyes staring up at him Although whether that was because of what he'd said, or what had just transpired between them, even she didn't know.

"What?" That old spark of hope escaped her grasp momentarily, and warmth bloomed in her chest. "Really? You mean that?"

He was smiling at her, and it was all she could do to keep her heart steady. "A Sun Summoner with the power to scythe through whole front lines? You would be a sight to behold."

She almost threw her arms around him. The urge was there, and it wasn't like he had a problem with them being in each others' personal space. But it seemed somehow immature to indulge that urge. Like something a little girl would do. And Alina did not want to be seen as a little girl by this man.

Instead, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Why is the Cut any different from what I can do now? I _immolated_ people."

The smile remained, as sure and steady as Grisha steel. "When you can do it, you will know."

 

**interlude.**

The boy was strange, it was whispered.

Not to his face. To his face, everyone in his unit was his friend. Superiors didn't care for how strange a soldier might be, after all - they cared for results and the boy produced results better than any tracker his regiment had seen.

And to their faces, the boy was cheerful. The strangeness only made him more intriguing, especially to girls, and he never hesitated with a kind or cheeky word. Of course, his mouth was quick to get him into danger as well, but the boy knew there was no danger that could really do him harm.

Not even Grisha.

It was unnatural, that lack of fear. The anger - oh, that had been seen a hundred times before, a thousand. Rage at the Grisha was common as love for them, but both emotions usually walked hand in hand with fear. Smart folk knew better than to face them without it.

The boy had been accused of intelligence before. But always in a despairing tone. _You are a smart boy, Malyen Oretsev. Why do you do such stupid things?_


	17. Chapter 17

**i.**

"So." Genya draped herself over one of Alina's couches, eyeing her friend expectantly. "That's all very exciting, I suppose, but we have more important things to discuss."

"More important than me learning the Cut and no longer being a student?"

"No longer a student? You didn't mention that part."

"Yes, well. The Darkling found my point about being able to wipe the floor with his people a compelling one. We're not making a big deal about it, though. After I refused to perform for the fete, we decided that downplaying everything right now was the best move."

Genya straightened. "You're not performing? But I thought the king...?"

Alina picked at one perfectly formed nail, feeling unaccountably flustered. "I told him I'd perform at the fete over the king's dead body."

There was a long silence at that. So long, in fact, that Alina began to wonder if she'd somehow done the wrong thing, if Genya would prefer that she pretend not to care.

And then her friend snorted, the sound quickly tumbling into a golden laughter that filled the room. "Saints, I wish _his majesty_ had been there to hear that. You likely would have had the body on your hands from sheer terror!"

Alina smiled, but her stomach squirmed uncomfortably. Not because Genya wanted the king dead - never because of that - but because it was such a weak thing for her friend to be happy about. A few words, not even said to the king's face. It was not the protection she should have been providing Genya.

"It's a challenge, then?" Genya asked, once her laughter had died away. "He refuses to allow you to do anything _useful_ , and you refuse to be his dancing monkey? And you are, of course, a sixteen year old girl. Notoriously intractable, those creatures. The king could always order you to do it - but he won't. Not without being haunted by nightmares of spontaneous combustion."

That was a little better. Not much, but something.

"It doesn't pay to be weak," Alina said softly. "The king will learn that, once I get my amplifier."

The savage pleasure in Genya's face only made her more beautiful. But somehow, Alina didn't think the king would find her all that enticing if he happened to see her now.

"Have you asked David about the stag?" The redhead asked after a moment, a little too casually. "If it's really all that unusual, he should know something about it."

"Are you counselling me to seek information outside of the assurances of the Darkling, Genya Safin?"

She had meant it as a joke. But the pale hue to her friend's face said she hadn't taken it as one. A darkly humorous part of Alina's mind noted how ridiculous it was, to contemplate regicide with ease and be terrified of crossing the Darkling in so small a way.

The rest of her rose, taking Genya's hands in hers. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Look, I don't think the Darkling would have given me the name, if I could find out some nefarious truth about it. But either way, I won't ask."

"No, you should," her friend protested, but it was weak, half-hearted. "It's an amplifier, it's going to be a part of you. You should know as much about it as possible."

"David is important to you, so he's important to me. I won't put him in the firing line."

Genya smiled, reassured. Not for the first time, Alina mused that David really wasn't _good_ enough for her best friend. She deserved someone who would, at the very least, notice her.

But Genya's little crush made her happy. So Alina stayed quiet, about both David, and the amplifier.

 

**ii.**

_You made a promise._

Snow flurried around the _Etherealki_ pavilions, but the Grisha sprawled within them showed no sign of feeling the cold. A couple of them had even shrugged off their winter _kefta_ , bathed under the warmth of Alina's power as they watched their peers showing off.

 _You made a promise to_ Genya. _Of all the promises in the world, you can't break that one._

Zoya stepped up. Alina smiled and whooped along with the others, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the silver and bone bracelet about her wrist. The light glinted off it, and a dark part of Alina wondered what would happen if she focussed on that. If she sharpened the reflection to white-hotness, could she take the amplifier off?

A gust of wind sliced through the air, and the trees on the opposite side of the lake bowed from the force of Zoya's power. Alina forced herself not to scowl, or cut off the other girl's hand. She clapped instead. It was much less satisfying.

She wanted to step up herself. Wanted to stand before all of them and tear the world apart with the sun. Zoya, she felt, would never be able to compete with the Cut.

But neither, right now, could Alina. The Darkling had told her that he didn't expect her to be able to pick it up straight away, but that didn't make Alina feel any better about not having managed even the beginning of the Cut. When held against the backdrop of everything she _had_ learned so far, the fact that she couldn't manage this one extra thing seemed ridiculous.

What was it about the Cut that was so different? The Darkling said she would understand when she could do it, but having seen _him_ perform it - well. It didn't seem very much more impressive than burning people to ash.

Zoya continued her performance, and while the smile on her face could never _not_ be smug, there was genuine exaltation there as well. Alina ground her teeth behind her own smile, and casually leaned back on her hands, towards one of the few shadows left in the pavilion.

"Erik," she murmured to her _oprichniki_. "Do you know where the Durast David Kostyk is?"

"I will find out immediately, Sun Summoner."

Guilt tasted sour and sharp in the back of her throat. She swallowed it down.

 

**iii.**

David was in the Grand Palace, making preparation for the winter fete. _That_ was still more than a month away, but apparently such things took a while to organise, and David was the best. It was no surprise that he would be involved, despite his youth.

Alina wished she could have said weight dragged at her steps. That it was difficult to turn her body one way instead of the other, that she almost turned back even one time.

But she didn't. She stepped over the threshold of the Palace with ease, and if her stomach churned awfully, it didn't slow her steps any.

It wasn't like Genya had _wanted_ her to make that promise. It had been her suggestion in the first place. And it was absolutely possible that David wouldn't have any more information about Morozova's herd than Baghra or the Darkling had been willing to give her. So he'd be just as safe after she asked a few simple questions as a brilliant Grisha could be around the Darkling.

She wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings as she walked - that was what her _oprichniki_ were for. So when long brown robes swept into her path, she just about walked right into them, and the man they garbed. Thankfully for her general state of cleanliness, one of her guards pulled her gently back in time for her to avoid becoming entangled with an equally long (or so it seemed) and dirty black beard.

"Alina Starkov." The Apparat curved his disgusting teeth at her in something that was supposed to be a smile. "Ah, but surely you cannot think I would mean you harm? There is no need for your guards to be so overprotective, I promise."

The Apparat was not a figure Alina had ever had much personal contact with. Looking at - and smelling - him right now, she was abundantly grateful for that fact. Let the Darkling deal with religious fanatics. She was having a hard enough time managing her own affairs right now.

Still, she knew how to play this game. She smiled sweetly up at the man, and tried not to make it too obvious that she was holding her breath.

"Of course not." Was there something she was supposed to call him? She was pretty sure you didn't call priests 'my lord', no matter how close to the king they were. Was it just 'Apparat'? _Why_ had she not paid more attention to that. "It's nothing personal, really. But they would be remiss in their duties if they let strangers just bump into me."

Of course, that brought to mind _Sobachka_ , and Alina had a brief, distracted moment of wondering what the younger prince was up to these days before the Apparat's stale breath wafted over her face.

"You must be careful, that you are not kept too separate from others. If Ravka does not know her Sun Summoner, how can the Sun Summoner know Ravka?"

 _That_ pricked at her pride. She forced her smile brighter until it ate up the glare her face was threatening. "I appreciate your concern. But who I am isn't any more important to Ravka than who the Darkling is. It's _what_ I am that is important. What I can do."

He regarded her for a moment, and that black gaze felt like ants skittering over her skin. Under it. She held firm, refusing to shift.

"And what can you do?"

It was the _way_ he said it. So calm and polite, and if it had come from a Grisha, she would have called it pointed. But the strangest part was that it _wasn't_ pointed, coming from the Apparat. It was a clenched fist ploughing into her gut, knocking her breathless.

"What I need to," she managed to reply, before turning on her heel. She had to get away from this man. "If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

The slap of her feet on the beautifully tiled floors of the Grand Palace sounded like cowardice to her, but she didn't care. She'd _had_ this conversation before. Worse, she had played the part of the Apparat in it.

 _It's not my fault. I've tried and tried, it's_ not _my fault. How can anyone win against the powers of the king and Darkling combined?_ It galled her to admit that the king had any kind of power over her, but it was better than dwelling on the implications of the Apparat's words.

"The Shadowfold starves Ravka, and it is not tales of the Darkling that fend off the hunger." The Apparat's voice caught her before she could round the nearest corner, another chain to shackle her. "Why have you abandoned your people, Alina Starkov?"

She rounded on him, stalking back down the corridor. Anger was a better response than fear, and she told herself that it was her natural instinct right now.

"A fine thing for a priest to say from the comfort and luxury of the Grand Palace," she bit out. "When I want your input, I'll _ask_ for it. Until then, keep your fearmongering to yourself."

He smiled at her again, and it was just as disturbing as the first time. A sickly, ingratiating thing. No wonder the king liked him so much.

"I am the people's voice to his majesty," he said, completely unphased by her outburst. "My place is at his side, or else how would they ever get through the crowd of worthy nobles who also require his attention? I do not mean to insult you, never that, but it has been eight years since Ravka was promised their saviour. Of course there are very good reasons why nothing has been done, but it is hard for a peasant whose fields lie fallow to grasp those reasons."

 _You are the Sun Summoner. He is an_ otkazat'sya _priest who got lucky._ Alina actually had no idea how this man had risen to power, but she was starting to think that she should.

"If you think I don't understand that, you are sorely underestimating me," she said softly. "You might have the king's ear, but you don't have mine. And considering how his majesty treats his people, I think that's probably for the best."

She left with a measure more calm that time, all thoughts of David fled from her mind. But the pressure of those black eyes dug into her back long after she'd returned to the Little Palace.

 

**iv.**

Alina wanted to throw something. Panting, she eyed the Darkling, wondering if she could just pick him up and hurl him into the lake.

The lake was frozen. She did not consider that an impediment to her plan.

"Nothing," she pointed out, keeping her breathing as steady as possible, "is happening."

And he was _smiling_ at her, the bastard. Nothing obvious, just a small quirk of the lips, but on a face that so rarely changed expression, it might as well have been a grin. Something squirmed in her stomach. She ignored it.

"Did you think this would be easy?"

"Don't patronise me," she snapped, shoving a hand back through her hair. The last thing she wanted right now was him coming closer, doing that _thing_ he did whenever her hair so much as threatened to misbehave. "Of course I didn't. But I did think I would be able to do _something_ after a few weeks."

He tucked his hands neatly behind his back, carefully avoiding her gaze. That smile wasn't going anywhere, and the urge to throw him only grew. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world, and if she had been in a better frame of mind, Alina might have appreciated that a little more. Usually, it wasn't too hard to detect the ageless quality about the Darkling, the thing that made him so clearly Other.

Right now, training her out in the summoner pavilions on a frosty winter's morning, he seemed like the age he appeared to be. It was disconcerting.

It was something else as well, but she was ignoring that too.

"It took me years."

Alina stared, sure she'd misheard. "This is a terrible time to gain a sense of humour, Darkling."

An single grey eye flicked in her direction. "You think I lack humour, Alina?"

"I think-" But she bit off her retort, mostly because she wasn't completely sure what was about to come out of her mouth. "No. I don't. But years? I find that hard to believe."

"I wasn't always the Darkling," he pointed out softly. "A century has proved more than enough time to learn what is needed. But I was not always over a century old, either. So, yes. Some things took years. The Cut took the longest, and the shortest at the same time."

Alina couldn't help herself. She drew closer to the man, standing so solitary against the stark white of the ice and snow behind him. "That," she informed him, "is incredibly unhelpful. Long and short at the same time? Why don't you tell me the tale behind the short part, maybe I can replicate that."

She tried to say it as casually as possible, like everything in her wasn't suddenly bent upon this topic of conversation. The Darkling talked to rarely about himself, and even less often about his past, she didn't want to breathe the wrong way and somehow ruin it. The question earned her both of his eyes, although the smile was gone.

She told herself she didn't mourn the loss.

"The short part is, I killed two children."

Alina blinked at him, processing that. "I hope you don't expect me to be surprised."

Was that a callous thing to say? Two children were dead. But they would be dead now anyway, she could be sure of that without knowing anything more about them. The Darkling might say it had taken him years to learn the Cut, but she doubted he had reached twenty without knowing it. She also felt she knew this well enough to understand that he would not have told her he'd killed _anyone_ if he didn't think she'd approve of why.

He regarded her carefully. "Most would recoil at hearing something like that."

"Most don't understand your finely tuned sense of drama." A grin stole across her face before her bad mood could thieve it back. "Either way, I'm not most. Tell me the rest of the story. Please."

He did, glossing over a Darkling child's lonely childhood, the urge for companionship. How that had clashed with the basic greed of human nature, a Grisha girl deciding she valued his bones more than his friendship. His spoke dispassionately, and Alina had to wonder if that was because of the distance of time, or if he really had never cared. She doubted that he was trying to hide some secret pain over the matter now, and appreciated that he didn't try to convince her that he was.

The girl had tried to kill him, along with another boy. He stared out at the ice - was he remembering slipping under? Drowning, freezing to death, with only one thing left in his arsenal that might save him?

Or had the sharpness of those sensations dulled over time as well? Alina supposed, a little grimly, that she would know one day. In a century or so.

"I think," she said, picking her words very carefully, "that they deserved what they got."

He glanced back down at her, and this time the smile wasn't at her expense. "Is that so?"

Alina drew on his arm until his hands unlocked, allowing her to examine his long, pale fingers with hers. Power surged through her as their bare skin brushed, warm and familiar, and the blush that graced her cheeks had her lingering over the point of contact for longer than she'd planned as she tried to clear her face of anything incriminating.

"You were saving yourself. It's no different than if you'd defended yourself with a sword or dagger." She puffed out a sigh at that one, gazing out at the lake and very clearly unCut trees beyond. "Well. Almost the same."

He chuckled, and the sound was like a drop of sunlight, warming through her veins along with the effect of his amplification. The angle of their hands change as he wrapped his around hers, firmly. "I'm glad you see it that way. But you can see why it took so long for me to get the knack of it. It's not enough to want it. You have to need it."

The Darkling, Alina realised, was holding her hand. She reacted before she could help herself, hastily tugging her hand away and breaking the connection. Her face had to be on fire, and she wasn't even sure _why_. It wasn't like it was the first time their hands had ever touched.

"I _do_ need it," she said hastily, trying to cover the strangeness of the moment and her reaction to it. "Saints, you sound like Baghra. Or the Apparat. You all think you know what I need more than I do."

"The Apparat?" All of the gentleness was abruptly gone from the Darkling's demeanour. "When did you speak with the Apparat?"

Alina stared up at him uncertainly. Had her _oprichniki_ not passed that information on? Alina wasn't used to the concept of the Darkling _not_ knowing what was going on in her life.

"Last week," she tried, after a moment. "He didn't say anything I don't already know. I'm out of touch with the people. I haven't done anything useful yet. I'm a colossal disappointment. I think he thinks he can change that."

"And you...didn't stop to consider that he might be able to?"

Alina snorted. She had considered some things as a result of the Apparat's words, but the idea that he could actually _help_ had not been one of them. "I might not yet have figured out how to get you or his _majesty_ to see things my way, but I do know that religion is not going to be the answer to either of those things. Especially not his brand of it."

She didn't have a lot of faith. She had even less in a corrupt and dirty priest who, no matter his bullshit about being the voice of the people, rarely left the king's side.

The Darkling raised an eyebrow at her. "Here I thought you had come around to seeing things my way."

There was no particular emphasis on any of his words. There didn't need to be. The fact that he said them at all was emphasis enough, but Alina refused to be cowed. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Getting an amplifier was my idea. You just agreed with me. I _still_ think I should be doing something more useful than staying in the Little Palace learning something that I apparently won't be able grasp unless you try to kill me, but." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "There's no arguing with you. And I really do want to learn the Cut. I just wish I could have some other amplifier. Or that the stag was easier to find. Or that we even had confirmation that it's more than just a children's tale. Or..."

She trailed off. There was no point in continuing, and she was starting to understand the Darkling's point about what it was she _needed_. Which was still remarkably unhelpful. She could understand that she was confused all she wanted. What that didn't give her was a solution.

_Why have you abandoned your people, Alina Starkov?_

She hadn't. Or if she had, she was doing everything she could to try and find them again. Wasn't she? Were they even _her people_? If anything, they were the Darkling's. He was the one who had put a century into them.

There was something unreadable in the Darkling's expression, behind those cold, cold eyes. Alina suspected that most people would find it uncomfortable, being regarded so thoroughly by this man. It barely brushed the sides with her. She was used to it.

Welcomed it, sometimes. It was a comfort to know that some things never changed.

"So. You're saying that you're going along with what I want, not because you think it's best, but because you can't think of any way to _not_ do what I want?"

Alina thought about that. Thought about how she could respond to it, what reaction the man in front of her was looking for, what he wanted to hear.

Finally, she smiled, carefully tucking her hands behind her back. "You did say you wanted a challenge."

 

**v.**

In the end, it was neither the Darkling, nor Baghra, nor the Apparat who prompted Alina into action. Genya offered comfort, but no advice. After the first abortive attempt, her conscience refused to let her seek out David for more information about the stag.

It was Zoya.

The beautiful girl sauntered late into breakfast one day, murmuring something about an excursion to Balakirev that had run overlong. Blue eyes slid sideways as she said it, and Alina caught the faintest smirk before Zoya turned to respond to something Marie had said.

Alina had never been to Balakirev.

It was a simple thought, but when she said it in aloud in the silence of her room later that evening, she realised how truly ridiculous it was. She was the Sun Summoner. Balakirev was one of the closest villages to Os Alta, and she had never been. She was rarely even seen on the streets of Os Alta.

But Zoya had been. _Zoya_ had even achieved a special dispensation to visit relatives in Novokribirsk. Zoya had an amplifier. Zoya travelled with the Darkling.

Zoya had seen the Shadowfold.

And Alina Starkov? Alina Starkov had immolated a few men. She had seen the main arteries of the country, the much travelled road, and a nearly deserted area of borderlands. Nothing more. She tried to remember the last time she had spoken to a _person_. Not someone with a title, or someone who hesitated at telling her their name. Just, an ordinary person. A Ravkan.

She had the sneaking, sinking sensation that it had been Malyen Oretsev. And wasn't _that_ a name she hadn't thought in years? In the middle of her room, she spun in place, eyeballing the bottom of her chest of drawers. It was just habit not to open them now, to store nothing there.

Would it have been cleared out by now? For some absurd reason, Alina glanced about her empty room, as though she needed to double check she was really alone. She locked the door to be sure, and then she was hurrying over to the drawer, dropping to her knees before the lowest one in order to open it.

It took a good yank or two, the wood having swollen and shrunk over the course of seasons, sticking in place from disuse. But she got it open, and-

There was the uniform. The bead of alexandrite. The tiniest nesting doll. Cutlery and bits of wall and the dried remnants of particularly interesting flowers. A mouldy bit of something that she thought might have been cake. Alina stared blankly down at the collection of objects, and couldn't remember why she had put them in there.

Oh, she knew the _main_ reason. They had been for Mal - and the name now only summoned a hazy mop of brown hair and two twinkling blue eyes. But why had she put the bead in there? The doll? For what possible reason had her eight year old self acquired an entire _oprichnik_ uniform and stuffed it into the drawer?

The Sun Summoner looked at her history, and could no longer recognise herself.

 

**interlude.**

Genya was finding it difficult to breathe.

The Darkling stood at the window of his bedroom, gazing out into the moonlight drenched grounds of the Little Palace. Genya stood just inside the doorway, hands clasped in front of her, head lowered. It took all of her energy not to fidgit. That didn't leave much left over for respiratory issues.

"Have I been cruel to you, Genya?"

His voice was soft, gentle. If he had been cruel, there was no sign of it in his words now.

"No, _moi soverenyi,_ " she murmured. She was Grisha enough for that, at least. And she was telling the truth, not stretching it to satisfy his ego. The Darkling would not appreciate that.

And the Darkling had given her every out, in the beginning. She had been allowed to say no, and she had not. That was not cruelty. Genya believed that.

Genya sometimes thought she had to believe that.

"Have I not given you all possible aid?"

"Yes, _moi soverenyi_."

"Have I not provided you with the avenue to achieve your goals?"

"Yes, _moi soverenyi_."

The Darkling turned then, and there was no suppressing the shiver that crawled up her spine at the sight of his face. He was cold, colder than the winter in Tsibeya, and far more terrifying. It was all she could do not to back away as he strode towards her, as his pale, pale hand came up to caress her cheek, grasp her jaw in a gentle hand.

She almost wished he would be cruel. That was a human kind of anger, the grip of a hand, the sting of a slap. This enraged kindness was something else entirely.

"Then why has the Sun Summoner disappeared from beneath your nose?"

If Genya hadn't loved Alina so much, she might have hated her in that moment. But she did love the girl, and more than that, she knew Alina loved her back. She knew, because she was able to meet the Darkling's eyes almost directly, and tell him the absolute truth.

"I did not know she was going. I swear it. I swear it on - on Alina herself."

There was nothing, it turned out, that was more important to her in this world. And Genya thought she could see the understanding flicker behind the frozen landscape of the Darkling's face. And Genya thought she had made a grave, grave error.

He leaned in, loose strands of dark hair tickling her skin, until his lips all but caressed the shell of her ear. It might have been enticing, in any other circumstance. Right now, Genya wanted to be sick. All over her crisp, white _kefta_.

"I understand that she loves you," he murmured. "And I understand that she would never forgive me, were something to happen to you. But you understand that she loves me, Genya Safin. And you understand that if the Queen were to decide that you had too much free time for making friendly visits, Alina would not blame me for that."

Genya closed her eyes. It was easier to swallow the whimper that way.

"I can ensure that you never see her from a distance of less than fifty feet ever again. So you understand the stakes, Genya, when I ask you to make your _best_ guess as to just where the Sun Summoner has disappeared to."


	18. Chapter 18

**i.**

It was cold.

This, Alina thought, should not have been a surprise. It was winter, and it was Ravka. If there was a colder place in the world, she never, ever wanted to go there.

And yet, it was surprising. There were fires at the Little Palace, hot water, and it had never occurred to Alina to be conservative with their use. More than that, at the Little Palace she was able to use her power without thought. She hadn't been cold in eight years.

Thank the Saints for her  _oprichniki_ , who could help to set up camp and gather wood and carry extra blankets. The idea of leaving without them seemed absurd now, although she'd tried that very thing just two days before.

It had been Erik who had found her, even though she'd managed to get out of the Little Palace without being seen. His expression had been tight with fear and determination, and eight years of constant companionship had caused Alina to hesitate before she knocked him out.

That was something she hadn't been happy to learn about herself. Erik had nearly died for her over the summer. He had been a presence in her life since she was a scared child, and she had been prepared to hurt him. Not in a gentle way, either; Alina's power was not meant for subtlety.

It must have been something Erik had known, though, because he had talked fast. Like he knew she could only stand to give him a few minutes before she could no longer take the risk of being discovered. He'd made it convincing, pointing out the folly of someone who had never travelled alone before trying to navigate the Vy. The folly of navigating the Vy at all when she would be looked for.

So here he was, him and another of her guards, a woman named Olga who had always had a ready smile for Alina. She still smiled, although Alina could see the tense lines of guilt and fear cutting across her face every time she thought the Sun Summoner wasn't watching her.

She should have felt bad. And she supposed she did, in a distant sort of way. More immediate was the unsettling sense of  _pride_  infusing her. Erik and Olga had a choice between her and the most powerful man in the country, and they had chosen her.

That was its own kind of power. And not one she thought the Darkling had considered, when he had first given these people to her.

 

**ii.**

There were soldiers on the road.

That one wasn't surprising. Poliznaya was almost as close as Bala Kirev, and soldiers were in and out of that place all the time.

And yet Alina couldn't stop staring, scanning each and every face they happened to pass. She half expected to find them all dirty and starving - and to be sure, some were. But there were laughing faces, too. Handsome boys and pretty girls, fat ones, bony ones, solidly average ones. There was a fierce light of pride in some eyes, a dark despair in others.

She didn't know what she was looking for.

**interlude.**

The boy was hunting when he saw her.

He had seen beautiful girls before. He had  _known_  beautiful girls. But there was something about this one, even bundled in so many furs, that was almost other-wordly. She seemed to glow from the inside - not literally, of course, but there was a light to her, a vitality in her face that the boy couldn't remember seeing in another person.

It wasn't a classically pretty face, especially not screwed up in discomfort like it was now. Dappled sunlight caressed her face and the clearing around her, highlighting the contours of her cheekbones, the line of her jaw, the twist to lips red enough to be obscene. The girl was sitting as close to a fire as she could get without becoming the fire; between that and the furs, the boy had to assume she didn't get out much. And yet-

He didn't doubt that she would kill him, if she found a reason to. There were two other people nearby, but he found his attention completely consumed by her. This wasn't a girl you flirted with, a girl you had a night of fun with on a bedroll in the dark. You either worshipped this girl, or you got out of the way.

"Are you going to do anything, or just stand there?"

She wasn't looking at him, and he knew he hadn't made a sound. Not one heard by human ears at least. Yet she knew he was there, and the boy couldn't decide if that was exciting, or terrifying.

For a brief second he teetered, considering religion. But there was a rustle in the woods behind him, a scent on the air, and the boy remembered he didn't hold with saints.

Or Grisha.

 

**iii.**

The figure stepped out of her net of light, and Alina wondered if they had any idea how close they had come to dying. It wasn't just her power - she was trying not to make any visible use of it, after all. Her guards had gone on high alert the second they realised they had company, and even now that the figure had melted back into the woods, they hadn't settled down.

"You really don't need to be worried about my safety," she pointed out after a moment, inching a little closer to the fire. "The Darkling won't let it be known that I've left. The chances that Fjerdan assassins are ever here to recognise me are slim to none. The chances that any of them would be able to kill me, between my powers and your talents, are basically zero. So you can relax."

They did not relax. They  _did_  exchange glances, before Erik cleared his throat. "Permission to speak freely, Sun Summoner?"

Before she could point out that he didn't need to ask permission to  _speak_  to her, Olga was already talking. "We are concerned you will be recognised. It is not just assassins you need to be...worried about."

It didn't take much brain power to put two and two together. Alina glanced down at her furs, the layers of black clothing. She'd picked the most nondescript and worn items she owned, but that didn't mean much when your best friend was Genya Saffin. She could have found other clothes, of course. Duller ones, beige or olive green, more suited to a traveller who didn't want people looking at her too closely.

But here she was. Dressed in black with her guards worried about the Darkling tracking her through her coat. They weren't wrong to worry. And yet, she couldn't seem to bring herself to consider changing. That was ridiculous at the very best, unhealthy at the worst. But the black - the black was a part of her identity. She hadn't worn a colour other than it and gold since she had stepped foot in the Little Palace.

The Little Palace was days east, the Darkling presumably still there.

He was with her now, too. Alina didn't think there was a place in the world she could go to escape that.

She met the gaze of her  _oprichiniki_  with level, honest eyes. Neither of them looked away.

"Do you trust me?"

Their affirmative responses were immediate. Alina swallowed anything that looked like it might be guilt, and smiled at them both.

"Then stop worrying. We'll get where we're going. And no matter what happens, I'll protect you both."

 

**iv.**

They were a day out from their destination when her plan started to fall apart. The snow was making travel along the back roads next to impossible, and the horses were suffering for it. With some trepidation (which she was careful not to show her companions), she ordered that they return to the Vy.

Considering the season, the highway had a surprising amount of people on it (in that there were people at all). It wasn't packed by any means, but they passed other travellers every few hours. Most of them focussed on staying warm and moving forward; their gazes never lingered on her for too long.

(She would realise later - much later - that she looked like a Grisha whether she was in  _kefta_  or in rags. That the Small Science had left a stamp on her face, her bearing, her very essence. That people feared Grisha still as much as they revered them, and that sometimes the two things were one and the same.

But that would be later).

The trouble didn't come with anyone recognising her, at least not initially. No, the trouble was that with so few travellers on the road, those braving it were at risk from wild animals to wild people. Bandits, as it turned out, dealt quite well with the cold

"Sun Summoner." Olga's voice was low, pitched underneath the sounds of screaming and pleading from up ahead. "We should retreat to the trees. It isn't worth the risk."

Alina looked at the woman, and then back at the road. She considered. Olga was right. Not that she doubted the abilities of her  _oprichniki_ , but it would be foolish to risk them on bandits. Not when they had been so loyal, when she would need all the loyal followers she could get when she returned to the Little Palace.

And of course, if she stepped in-

A sudden wave of pure disgust rolled through Alina, almost making her gag at the thought of it. The drawer wavered in her mind, the fine image of an eight year old Alina Starkov kneeling in front of it. Would that girl have left helpless travellers to fend for themselves? Would she have even stopped to consider the pros and cons?

Her heels were digging into the side of her mount before she could second guess herself. The dismayed shouts of her guards pricked her conscience, but they didn't slow her down at all. Alina drew on the cold light around her, the shards of sun glinting off snow, wrapping them around her until she was truly  _warm_  for the first time in days.

Warm, and more importantly, bright. A simple, flashy trick that expended more energy than it was typically worth, except on occasions where she didn't want to kill people. And while she wouldn't mind slaughtering a few bandits, there was no way she would be able to tell  _who_  the bandits were until it was potentially too late.

Fear, she had learnt, was just as effective weapon as pain. And so was drama. She tugged her horse up into a rearing motion, glowing with the strength of the sun on earth. Cries of terror - well, they remained cries of terror, but the clash of weapons and demands subsided. After a moment or two, so did any other sound. Her own breathing rattled in her ears, but that was it.

She closed her eyes to gather herself.  _What would the Darkling do?_  But that was a useless question - the Darkling wouldn't have charged full tilt into a situation like this in the first place. Alina had to rely on her own talents for this one.

She thought, of all things, about the king. Of dark eyes and a violent mouth, and of what a woman with power could provoke.

"I don't abide thieves," she said finally, spacing her words out. Her voice was pitched low for a girl anyway, and the timing gave her some gravitas. She hoped. "Leave. Before I make you leave."

The bandits didn't look all that different from the travellers - in fact, she thought that a few of the people she had come to save might have run off as well. That left a collection of three rough-looking Ravkans who, almost as one, slowly bent their knee into the mud and the snow.

A man prayed.

"Please." The woman who spoke was a whisper, in body as well as voice. "We're just trying to get to Ryevost without trouble. My sister says she'll find us work. We never meant to be a problem to anyone."

They were afraid of her, Alina realised. She'd come to save them, and they were scared anyway. She suspected that she was supposed to feel bad about that. Her eight year old self would have felt bad about that.

Her sixteen year old self was exhilarated. Her light continued to blaze, heatless for the sake of her horse. She wondered what effect it would have on these people if they could feel the warmth of her in the middle of winter, but decided that having her mount bolt would probably ruin what she was going for here.

"Tell no one what you saw here," she said finally. "Continue to Ryevost, with my blessing."

She wished she had the ability to just disappear. Instead, she sat there on her horse and waited, for them to gather up their things, to continue on their way. She kept the light going until they were out of sight, before slowly letting it fade with a mournful sigh. Her body ached in a completely delightful way, like she'd just gone on a run for the sheer joy of it.

Erik and Olga rejoined her. She pretended not to see the  _very_  judgemental looks they were trying not to show her.

"The whole countryside will know about this by lunch," Erik observed.

"I told them not to tell anyone."

"The whole countryside will know about this by lunch," Olga confirmed.

Alina scowled. "Then we'd better pick up the pace."

 

**v.**

"Where are you going, Alina?"

There was no ignoring her name when it was said like that. Sometimes, Alina thought she would almost prefer it if the Darkling would go back to nicknames. There was just something about the way his mouth lingered over the syllables that made her want to shiver, made her want to duck her head and hide her face out of-

"This," she said out loud, "is a dream."

The Darkling, sitting cross-legged in the corner of her tent, lifted one shoulder in an impossibly elegant shrug. He was gazing not at her, but up at the ceiling. Alina couldn't help but glance at the long, pale stretch of his neck, bared to her.

"It isn't for me to tell you what is real and what isn't."

"Even your shadows don't reach this far, Darkling."

"I think it would surprise you, the depth of some darkness."

She said nothing, taking in the sight of this construct instead, the Darkling her mind had come up with in its paranoia. He was as lovely as the real thing, and  _that_  was a thought she was stopping right there. Even in the privacy of her own mind, she didn't feel safe thinking it.

"I'm almost there," she declared. "You can't stop me. I'll be home soon."

"And where is there?"

"You'll see."

 

**vi.**

The Shadowfold was big.

It was a stupid thing to think, and Alina felt embarrassed for herself the second the words triggered in her brain. But it wasn't a  _wrong_  thing to think, as she stared out at the dark smear on the horizon. It eclipsed the surrounding light, swallowed it and spat it out again as more darkness.

It was familiar.

She swallowed, glancing instead at her companions. "Have you seen it before?"

"Once," Erik said softly. "When I was very small."

"I have travelled it," Olga said shortly, and said no more.

"Right." Alina looked back at the ever encroaching darkness, and nodded to herself. "Look after my horse."

The both started at the same time. She cut their protests off before they could form.

"I'm not asking."

Before the words had come out of her mouth, she thought she might try to explain to them. That this was something she wanted to do by herself, that there was nothing they could do to save her that she couldn't do herself. But she thought of the travellers kneeling before her, of the power of the sun under her skin, and she didn't want to. It was so much easier to just not have to explain herself.

Neither guard looked happy about her decision, but they didn't argue it, either. The Sun Summoner carefully dismounted, and made her way to the Unsea alone.

 

**interlude.**

Ivan had not intended to fall in love with Alina Starkov.

He had not intended to fall in love with anyone. It seemed a ridiculous pastime, and he hadn't found it any less so now that he was actively engaging in it. To be so caught up in another person, to be thinking of them constantly, to open yourself up to losing them-

It was not, he suspected, a winning life strategy. Especially not when that person was Alina Starkov, Sun Summoner, and all around pain in the ass.

"Where is she?"

The  _oprichniki_  had not bothered to run, to hide. Ivan wondered if that made them idiots, or something else. What that something else might be. He wondered these things with his fist wrapped around the male's heart, ready to wring the answer from his corpse if he had to. He had been hunting whispers for days, and was not in the mood for diplomacy.

But the man said nothing. Oh, he choked, fingers clutching at his chest, but there were no words from him. Ivan turned to the woman.

"Where  _is_  she."

The woman lifted her chin, and remained silent. Ivan cursed, sneering at the two of them.  _Otkazat'sya_. Weak, nothing in the face of Grisha power, or any kind of power. And defiant anyway.

He clenched his fingers. The man slumped at his feet. Ivan nudged him away with his toe.

" _What_  do you think you're doing to my guard, Ivan?"

It was a strange mixture of emotions that flooded his chest then, and none of them pleasant. Irritation at being interrupted, question. Fear, at what she had done, and what the consequences would be. And - a rush of joy.

It had been some time since they had seen each other, after all.

He whirled on the Sun Summoner, ready to tear a strip off her for being so stupid, so foolish, so unthinking, and stopped.

Physically, there was nothing different about her. She was beautiful like a knife was beautiful, sharp and dangerous to handle unless you knew what you were doing. But there was a sadness about her now, a defeated air that dragged at her shoulders, pulled at the lines of her face.

He unclenched his fist. He was used to seeing Alina triumphant. He didn't know what to do with this suddenly fragile seeming girl.

"Thank you," she said, not meeting his gaze as she crouched next to the man. She cupped his face, murmuring something Ivan missed, in his confusion. She turned to the woman, and both guards left, one supporting the other.

"What have you done?"

She straightened. This time she met his gaze, and her eyes were as cool as - well. The comparison was obvious.

"Don't ever," and her voice was just as cold, low and measured, "attack my guards like that again. If they are anywhere, it's because I ordered them there. If they refuse to tell you something, it's because I didn't want them to. Of would you prefer I had guards I couldn't trust?"

There were times when Alina was the dry, sharp, grumpy girl he had gotten to know over the years. She was clever and quick, even caring when the mood struck her. But she was a girl like any other Grisha, and Ivan took the flak he got for being involved with a sixteen year old on the chin because of it.

And there were times like this, when she looked at him like a stranger and spoke like a queen. And Ivan would have pitied those idiots if he gave a damn about them, because this was a side of her they would never have. Only see from a distance and want, unfulfilled.

HIs fingers wound around her wrist, tugging her to him. She snorted, but didn't stop him, fisting her free hand in his  _kefta_  instead to jerk him even closer to her. "I would  _prefer_  that you didn't disappear into the middle of nowhere in the middle of winter without a word."

"I'm not a prisoner," she pointed out. "Just because people want me to stay in the Little Palace, doesn't mean I have to."

Having her this close was only a reminder of how much he disliked being apart. Ivan leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, wrapping his other arm around her waist. "Yes, but you are a Grisha now. This is technically desertion."

"Be sure to take it up with my commander."

He kissed her then, because if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was thinking about Alina and the Darkling in the same sentence. She pressed into him, her body the slightest bit warmer than his, as though she had just stepped out of a ray of light. She kissed him like she thought she mind find something in him, or as though she was trying to lose herself in him.

Ivan didn't much care which. He let go of wrist and cradled her head instead, content - at least for that moment - to be whatever she needed.

 

**viii.**

He was in her tent again, that night. Only once Ivan had left it.

She eyed the shape of him, under the glow of her own palm. She knelt, and shuffled closer, and let her fingers trace his form. Almost touching, but not quite.

"This isn't a dream," she decided finally, and didn't move away.

The Darkling was eyeing her hand with some small amount of curiosity. "No heat."

"If light were always warm, we would have no winter. How are you doing this?"

He smiled, the shadows cast by her hand carving it deeper. "I don't share all my secrets, Alina. Just as you keep yours. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Her own face twisted, and she rocked back onto her camp bed, away from him. Her life had been a confusion of wants and needs for years now, of vague goals she couldn't tell were hers, or his. But one thing had been there, had always been there, above all others.

"I can't destroy it," she said softly. "The one thing I'm supposed to do, that everyone expects and hopes and prays from me, and I can't do it. I'm not strong enough."

"You will be, with the stag."

She glared at him, dragging her arm in front of her in a sharp, slashing motion. "The stag? You don't even know if the stag is real! Baghra is sure it's not. And even if it is, it's an amplifier, not a magic trick. Do you know how big that thing is, Darkling? Do you know how  _deep_?"

He caught her wrist then, and she couldn't help her startled gasp at the feel of him, of skin on skin. Somehow, beyond reason or possibility, he really was there. In the tent, with her.

And she felt grateful.

"I have spent a lifetime and more studying the Fold." He turned her hand over, palm up, and she was reminded of his fingers on hers that afternoon in the pavilion. This time she didn't pull away, as his thumb slid over the ball of hers. "I am intimately familiar with it. As I am with your power. Alina, if I thought you couldn't handle it, I would not have bothered with you."

He had said things like that before. She had alternately believed him for the comfort of it, and doubted for the same reason. Alina stared at their hands, at the shadow of him moving over her light, disturbing it. She closed her eyes and thought of Ivan, of his hot and desperate fingers on her, matching her own fervour even if he didn't know why.

She should move her hand away.

She didn't.

"It felt like you," she said softly. "I can't tell if that's ridiculous, or if it makes perfect sense. But it did."

He was silent for so long that she wondered if he had broken, if whatever he was doing to be there when he  _wasn't_  there had somehow failed.

And then his hold on her tightened, hard enough to hurt. "Do you think I have monsters in me too?"

She laughed, more of a puff of breath than anything else. Before she could stop herself, before she could even think about what she was doing, she lifted their conjoint hands to her mouth, brushed a kiss over his fingers. "I know you do."

 

**ix.**

She couldn't meet Ivan's eyes, the next morning.

 

**x.**

"I'm going to  _kill_  you."

Alina paused, halfway through tugging off her furs. She met Genya's gaze in the mirror, and tried for a smile. "This seems familiar."

Pale, slender hands reached for her, and Alina stood there patiently, waiting for her friend to start messing with her clothes. But the fingers brushed her furs and kept going, until Alina found herself with an armful of girl hugging her tightly.

"This is  _not_  familiar," Genya mumbled into her shoulder, as Alina carefully hugged her back. "And if it becomes familiar, I really will kill you. No one had any idea where you had gone. Anything could have happened to you, you silly thing!"

"Oh," Alina said blandly, before she could stop herself. "I don't think I was ever as lost as I wanted to be."

Genya pulled back, giving her a quizzical look that somehow managed to maintain its concern at the same time.

She looked, Alina realised with some shock, exhausted.

"Saints," she murmured, cupping Genya's cheek. "Forget about me, what's the matter with you? You look terrible!"

"I do not."

"You look terrible for you," Alina amended. "What's going on?"

Genya stared at her. "What's going on? Alina Starkov, some of us don't take it well when our best friends vanish into thin air! Especially when they do it right before the biggest event of the year!"

"Biggest-?" She groaned. "The fete. Of course."

"The fete next weekend."

Alina groaned some more.

"Don't make those sounds at me as though you don't like a party as much of the rest of them. You never miss a chance to show off, even if you're abstaining from  _really_  showing your worth this season."

"I know. I  _know_. I just…" She thought of the people on the road, of bandits running in fear, of people kneeling before her. She thought of what might have happened if she hadn't intervened.

She thought of the Shadowfold, of cool blackness washing over her skin, dulling all senses except for sensation. How she'd welcomed it and wanted to tear it down all at the same time.

A fete didn't really compare.

The look on Genya's face turned strange, into something Alina didn't recognise. She blinked, stared back at her friend.

"What?"

"I can't tell if you found whatever it is you left for, or not."

Alina gave her friend a tight smile. "Neither can I."

 

**xi.**

Her dress had no gold on it this year.

There was a message to that, but Alina couldn't tell what it was. She hadn't seen the Darkling since that night in her tent, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. She wasn't sure how to face him in the light of reality, after the strange intensity of that halfway place.

Was he reminding her of his power, with the dress? Laying claim to her? Or was this all a part of their little game with the king?

The funny part was, she never once wished that that the colour of her dress didn't matter. No matter how ridiculous it all seemed, this was a part of her life. When she considered how eight year old Alina would react to the situation, there was no answer there. Eight year old Alina could never have imagined so much weight being put on a stupid dress.

Not that the dress was stupid. Alina swished a little for Genya's benefit, making approving faces at her reflection. Loose curls tumbled around her face and shoulders - they had decided to emphasise her girlishness for the evening, to make her defiance of the king go down easier.

Alina wished he'd choke on it anyway.

"Stunning," Genya announced. "Are you ready? Of course you're ready, come on, let's go."

"No, wait-" Alina hurried over to her set of drawers, fiddling with her jewellery box. They had decided on simple jewellery, too, but she was changing her mind. Quickly, she pulled studs from her ears and slipped in a new pair of earrings, stringing the matching necklace around her throat.

Soft fingers brushed the back of her neck, taking the clasp from her. "You're going to break it," Genya informed her. "Wasn't there a bracelet, to go with all of this?"

Alina watched the shifting colours of the alexandrite for a second, before heading for the door. "It broke. Years ago, actually. Hurry up, slowpoke, you're going to make us late."

 

**xii.**

"This is the part where I tell you that you look beautiful, isn't it?"

Ivan's breath was hot at her ear, his hand firm on her waist. Whatever the orchestra was playing, it was slow and sensual at the same time, and Alina was loving it. It was very easy to forget the weight of the world on your shoulders when a handsome man was pressed up against you.

"Oh, no," she laughed, stepping in time with him. "That was at least a half hour ago. You've missed the boat, my friend."

"Friend?" He pulled away a fraction of an inch, mouth grazing the corner of her lips. "Do you behave like this with all your friends? I might have to have a word with some of them."

"Your idea of words involves a lot more broken bones than I'd prefer." She gifted him with a smile then, slow and for him alone. "But either way, you're a special case."

She wasn't always this demonstrative with Ivan in public. At least, not this kind of public, with  _otkazat'sya_ everywhere and all of them living and breathing politics. But there was a set of eyes boring into her shoulder blades right now, and it made her want to act out, even in some small kind of way.

They had entered the Grand Palace together, as they did every year. Her and the Darkling. She had watched his gaze flicker over her, lingering at the hollow of her throat. And then they'd maintained their silence of the past week, separating as soon as it was feasible to do so.

The Grisha had performed. There had been something especially intimidating about the Darkling's showmanship this year, a blackness that lingered seconds too long, a beat or two extra before the Inferni blasted it away. And Alina had felt the shadows cling to her as they pulled away, and knew she hadn't been wrong.

The Shadowfold was made of the same stuff he was. Which begged the question:

Why couldn't he control it?

 

**xiii.**

Alina snagged a flute of champagne from a passing servant. She wanted to scull it.

She sipped.

"Are you going to dance with me, or just stare?"

She felt the brush of his laughter, even though he was standing at least two feet away from her.

"Oh, I think your card has been filled for the evening, Sun Summoner."

She sipped some more. "You could just say you don't want to dance with me."

The Darkling smirked, looking every bit the age he seemed, instead of the age she knew him to be. "Why would I say something I didn't mean?"

She went to sip a third time, but the glass was empty.

 

**xiv.**

The king left early.

She couldn't find Genya.

 

**xv.**

"Darling, did you  _see_  what the Countess was wearing?"

" _Yellow_? Saints, it's almost like she doesn't know. I suppose her holding  _is_  a little backwater, but don't anyone tell her I said that."

"Of course not. Still, someone should tell her she looks like a peasant. Nicely."

"Oh come now, it's hardly her fault! Who knew all those paupers could scrape together the coin to start dyeing their clothes, anyway?"

"You're being kind in assuming it's dye, dearest…"

"Speaking of! Have you  _seen_  the way he's looking at her tonight? It's almost obscene, really."

"Who could miss it? Then, it's hardly a surprise. The poetry of it all, you understand. Light and dark, coming together?"

"You think he's that considerate?"

 

**xvi.**

"I'm done here."

Ivan was involved in some kind of Grisha pissing match with Zoya. Ordinarily, it was the kind of thing Alina might have taken an interest in, if nothing else but to help knock Zoya down a peg. But there was an agitation itching under her skin and a pair of eyes still on her back, and the tittering voices were all going to drive her mad.

Ivan turned his back on the other girl immediately. Zoya opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly witty and cutting, but there was no missing the fact that Ivan's attention had switched to her one hundred percent.

"Is that an invitation, Sun Summoner?"

She reached down and twined their fingers together, holding Zoya's gaze until the other girl looked away. And then she smiled at Ivan, that same slow, intimate expression from before.

She didn't saying anything. He followed her to her rooms anyway.


	19. Chapter 19

**i.**

Genya's room was nice.

Alina sat on the edge of her bed, looking around the place and pretending like her leg wasn't jiggling up and down. Because it definitely wasn't. And if it was, it was just excess energy. Fetes were invigorating. Obviously.

The room was  _nice_ , but there were none of the personal touches Alina associated with her best friend. It was bare, without even a trace of gold dust to clue in a nosey onlooker about the kind of things Genya put together here. Which made sense, really. Much of Genya's power was in how people assumed she had none.

Still. It reminded Alina of the girl's  _kefta_ , with all colour and joy stripped from it. Not for the first time, she wondered what Genya would wear if given a choice.

The door creaked open, and Alina bolted upright, feeling a little like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The word  _Mal_  teased the back of her mind, but whatever memory had once been attached to the collection of thoughts in her mind was long gone.

"Alina?"

There was something strange about Genya's voice. Watching the other girl straighten, she realised that her friend must have been slumping as well.

She couldn't remember having ever seen Genya slump. It was then that it clicked; the strangeness in her voice was from a complete lack of pleasure at seeing Alina.

She stood immediately, brushing down the black of her kefta nervously. "Sorry, I can go. It's not - I mean, it is important, but there are other people I can see. Don't worry about it, get some rest."

"Alina."

And there it was, the familiar warmth and amusement Alina hadn't realised she relied on so much. Genya's glorious golden eyes crinkled at the corners, and she laid a scrubbed pink hand on Alina's shoulder.

"Calm down, you silly thing. What's gotten you so worked up?"

Her mind danced over the implications of all that pink skin, of the wet tangle of Genya's hair over one shoulder, of the disappearance of the king the night before. And then it danced away again, because she knew her friend. Knew that this was a time Genya wanted no one to see, and less people to talk about.

So she cleared her throat, and to her mild horror, felt her own cheeks flush red. Unlike Genya, she did not have a pretty blush.

"I was wondering," she started, grasping for the right words, "if you were a person who could take care of things. Pregnancy wise."

They'd all had that lesson, of course, somewhere in between learning how to knife a person, and defending oneself from a knifing. If you had sex and weren't interested in little Grisha running around, then you went to a Healer and had them take care of it for you before pregnancy even became an issue.. But Alina didn't know any Healers she would be happy with knowing about her extra curricular activities, and she did know Genya. Who, she suspected, knew everything there was to know about her anyway.

Except, apparently, this. Genya's face was a study in the beauty of rage, and her hand tightened on Alina's shoulder.

"He didn't."

Panic swamped Alina, mostly because she could quite easily imagine Genya trying to slit Ivan's throat in that moment, and equally could imagine Ivan aggressively defending himself against such an attempt, and it would be a terrible thing to have to burn a boy the day after having sex for the first time because he tried to hurt your best friend.

"No, I did! Or - we did. I wanted to. I practically dragged him to my room, he was considerate in an Ivan sort of way, there was - it was very enjoyable for everyone involved. No one is pregnant, at least I don't think so, although I suppose it could have happened already? But I just - I would like it to  _stay_ that way. Not pregnant."

She couldn't remember the last time she had been so flustered, and the surge of resentment that rocked through her body took her by surprise. She was the Sun Summoner. She wasn't supposed to get flustered. And yet here she was, stammering over her words like some merchant girl from a religious family.

Grisha had sex all the time. It wasn't anything strange, or dirty, or - special. It was just sex. And Alina-

The hand on her shoulder moved up to cup her face, and she blinked heavily as Genya pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Breathe." There was something intrinsically soothing about the way she said it, with soft voice and gentle expression. Eight years on, and Genya was still playing the older sister to Alina's lost little girl.

"Now," she continued, apparently satisfied with Alina's respiration. "Of course I can take care of things for you, so stop worrying about that. More importantly, how do you feel? You're not exactly floating around in a romantic haze."

"I didn't exactly do it to be romantic."

That earned her a single eyebrow raise.

"Oh, don't. No one said I had to be madly in love the first time I - had sex." She forced the words out, reasoning that if she couldn't say it, she probably shouldn't have done it.

"No. But it seems rather like you wish you had been."

"Yes? No, I don't know. I like Ivan. He's..."

She gestured helplessly. It seemed obvious what Ivan was, and yet for some reason, the words weren't coming to mind.

She was a terrible person.

"Strong," Genya finished for her, and if she should have gotten judgement from anyone, it would be this girl. But there was none of that in Genya's words, nothing but simple understanding. "He's strong, and wonderful to look at, and you don't hate talking to him for some unknown reason. And Alina, that's  _fine._  It doesn't have to mean anything more than that if you don't want it to."

Alina mulled that over. She didn't, she realised, want it to mean anything more than that. The vague anxiety that had plagued her when Ivan had refused to write to her had been bad enough. To love him - to become even more entwined with him - was inviting the sort of vulnerability inappropriate to the Sun Summoner.

Or maybe it was just inappropriate to her. She thought of eyes boring into her back, and swallowed.

"I should probably let Ivan know that."

Genya gave an elegant shrug. "I am not in the business of caring about Ivan's feelings. Do what's best for you, Alina."

"Genya!"

The beautiful girl just laughed.

 

**ii.**

Olga had a black eye.

The sheer rage that took Alina over at the sight of her guard standing stoic and straight outside her door, was a surprise. She had seen her guards injured before, of course. Erik had gotten shot for her. But that - that had been in the process of doing their job, of guarding her.

Alina did not remember being in a situation that would have resulted in Olga getting punched in the face lately.

"Olga, join me inside?"

The woman blinked, then inclined her head a little hesitantly. Alina pretended not to notice that part, holding the door open for her and doing her best not to slam it after.

"Who did this to you." The edge to her voice felt familiar. The prompt way Olga answered, even though she clearly didn't want to, confirmed why.

No one refused the Darkling his answers, either.

"A...nother  _oprichnik_ , Sun Summoner."

On the other hand, the woman hadn't immediately divulged every single detail she could recall, either. Alina thought for a moment that she would have to work on that, before remembering that this was  _her_  guard. Intimidating the woman should not have been on her to-do list.

"One of mine, or one of his?"

This time, the pause was longer. Olga ducked her head, gazing at her boots for a long moment.

"Olga."

The women lifted her head, eyes blazing. "You stopped the Heartrender from hurting Erik. You told us there would be no repercussions for accompanying you. I am an  _oprichnik_ , I would have followed orders regardless. But now I have faith in you, Alina Starkov. And I am not the only one."

Alina was abruptly very glad that she hadn't followed through on the instinct to intimidate. She thought of the Apparat, then, of the power he so clearly wielded. She thought of the travellers, kneeling in the dirt and the mud before her.

And she thought that the words Olga was giving her weren't just a gift of faith. They were a challenge. Faith was not, after all, something to be given once and then kept locked away. You had to earn it.

"You are not the only one," she repeated slowly. "But not all feel the same way. Or else you would not have felt the need to clarify."

A sharp nod. Alina began to pace, idly rolling the stone at her throat back and forth between her fingers. A dizzying scatter of light bounced off the gem, dancing across the walls and her _oprichnik's_  face.

"One of mine," she decided. "One of his wouldn't need to question their faith. They would choose him without question."

Another nod. Those eyes still blazed, and Alina paused, piecing together the rest of the puzzle. She smiled at Olga, gathering the sparkling light from the room into her palm. She cupped the woman's cheek. "And you would choose me."

There was no nod this time. Alina didn't need it, and neither did Olga. She withdrew her hand, leaving the woman's cheek flushed and pink under the ugly purple of her temple.

"I would like to know who else feels the way you do," the Sun Summoner said quietly. "I don't need you to make waves by asking who doesn't. But I would like to know who I can put  _my_  faith in."

"I understand,  _moy soverenyi_."

It was not the first time Alina had been called that. But it was sweeter now, with the weight of true conviction behind it. Olga had followed her out of faith, not duty, and she wanted to reward that. The urge to punish whoever had hurt the woman was like a knife in her hand - she just needed to know who to cut.

But she had to think bigger than that. If some of her own guards were doubting her, she couldn't afford to make them even more bitter. On the other hand, neither could she afford to alienate those who had faith in her by letting this go.

Alina sat down on her couch. The Darkling and his casual ease were the first thing that came to mind; she rested her elbow on the arm, her chin on her palm.  _Pensive_ , she thought, and felt her face fall into the appropriate lines. If this had been a year or two ago, it might have looked ridiculous. But there was a weight to her as well, now. A growing understanding of her power, and her place in the world.

"I would like your advice," she said finally. Like she meant it. "On what a person should do if their subordinates disagree – violently – when the aggressor is a member of a group that isn't quite as loyal as it should be."

Olga did not sit. Olga stayed exactly where she was, spine ramrod straight, eyes ahead. But a flush rose in her cheeks, something like pride.

"Assuming the violence did not occur on duty, Sun Summoner, leave the subordinates to sort it out themselves. No soldier appreciates their commanding officer interfering in personal time."

"But what about these less than loyal soldiers, Olga? Should they be left to believe there are others they should put before their primary duty?"

"No." The woman's voice was no less intense for its softness. "But they must be shown. They must know the same thing that those who are truly loyal know."

 

**iii.**

The dark corners of her bedroom revealed nothing but shadow, even in the middle of the night.

Alina wasn't surprised. He knew exactly where she was, after all. There was no need to check on her, no need to question her. No need to try and work his way under her skin to try and figure out what she was thinking, what she was planning next.

The Darkling had her exactly where he wanted her. And Alina had no idea where that was, except that involved her being within reach.

She thought about appearing to him in the same way he had on the road. Imagined taking some of the power he had over her and throwing it back in his face, challenging him in a way that _meant_  something for once.

She thought about his bedroom. She stopped thinking about that almost immediately, because it brought to mind those eyes, the weight of them between her shoulder blades.  _Why would I say something I didn't mean?_

Why  _hadn't_  he danced with her? Alina scraped her memory, trying to remember if they had danced before, but she couldn't get past the tilt of his lips, the smug beauty of his face. He'd looked at her like he knew something about her own feelings that she didn't.

He'd looked at her as though his not wanting to dance with her was worth more than anything she chose to do with Ivan.

 

**iv.**

He hadn't been wrong.

 

**v.**

Alina arranged a meeting with the Apparat.

 

**vi.**

"The Heartrender to see you, Sun Summoner."

Alina's lips quirked up at the sound of Erik's voice through her door. "Send him through please. And try to sound a little less unimpressed."

"Yes, Miss Alina." If anything, he sounded even more unimpressed. She laughed, and was still smiling when Ivan pushed his way into her bedroom.

He didn't slam the door shut, but the overly careful way he closed it said he wanted to. Alina felt her smile freeze and the fade entirely as he stayed there, poised like he was about to leave again.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said softly. In her mind's eye, she could see the way it was supposed to play out. She would cross the space between them, pull on his arm. He would turned around all at once, crush her to him, and everything would be solved with a kiss.

She stayed where she was. A second passed, two, and Ivan straightened with a sigh. He turned around, crossing his arms over his chest. To someone else, he might have seemed impassive, even intimidating. But Alina knew the lines of vulnerability on this man better than anyone, knew how to read the weakness in the clench of his jaw, the shift of his weight.

He was nervous. Maybe even afraid.

"You're avoiding me."

Alina wondered if that was true.

"I've been busy. So have you."

" _Alina_." He growled the name out from between clenched teeth.

Her eyes narrowed, and she almost regretted facing him for this. It was difficult to whirl on someone in a rage when you were already looking at them. So she continued to stay put instead, lifting her chin.

"I'm not one of your underlings to order about," she said softly. "I'm the Sun Summoner. Have some respect, or leave."

For a second, he looked like he wanted to. She could read it in the lines of his body, the way he swayed away from her for a split second.

But he swayed back again, the motion stronger for its momentum. His boot came down closer to her, although he didn't take the full step. Alina suspected there was something in her face that said  _do not approach_.

"And is being the Sun Summoner the only reason I should respect you?" he asked roughly. "Nothing else?"

Alina's breath caught in her throat. And that  _surprised_  her, the sudden surge of emotion. Not because she was some sort of monster incapable of feeling, but because - it came so rarely with Ivan. It was the core of her confusion with this man, the distance between them.

She had seen him at his lowest, and offered comfort. She had seen him stripped bare, both physically and emotionally, and still wanted him. She had seen the way he looked at her, and wanted _that._

She had not, the night of the fete had reminded her, allowed him to see much of her. And she didn't want him to. Alina was content to know Ivan down to his very bones, but she would never let him know her in the same way.

But did that make her only the Sun Summoner?

"No," she said finally, and felt her own lines soften, her face falling into fondness, her body relaxing. She stepped towards him, holding a hand out. "It's not. And you shouldn't need to ask that, Ivan."

He reached for her without hesitation, pulling her to him like he was afraid she would disappear if he didn't do it fast enough. And Alina decided then, after all those months, that she really hated the proprietary way Ivan put his hands on didn't make her feel loved. It made her feel owned.

But she let him do it, because there was power in that too, in letting him think he had a hold on her. Ivan was the Darkling's man as much as he was hers. When the Darkling said bring Alina home, he complied without question.

Alina didn't want to overthrow the Darkling. For lack of a more nuanced word, she loved him.

But when it came to her, she wanted people to question.

"I really was busy," she murmured into his neck, twining her arms around him. He felt good, pressed up against her, and thoughts of how good he felt even closer drifted lazily through her mind. "And...nervous."

That was a lie, but it sounded like the truth. More importantly, it was a lie Ivan would swallow easily. Of course she would be nervous. She might have been the Sun Summoner, but she was still just a sixteen year old girl. And he could be very intimidating.

He kissed her. Alina wanted something harsher, wanted the same frenzy and desire that had pushed the Darkling's eyes out of her head the other night.

But she let him be gentle. She let him re-assert his masculinity, and tied him even closer to her with it.

 

**vii.**

"Alina Starkov!"

On the Apparat's tongue, her name sounded like a smile was about to burst through it and punch her in the face. It took everything in Alina to just smile back, carefully smoothing down the edge of her kefta as she sat.

There was so much gold embroidery on it, the black had become more the accent than the other way around. It made the whole outfit stiff and unwieldy, but she moved in it like it was made of silk.

Or light.

"Thank you for meeting me. I appreciate the time you've taken away from your...flock."

Lips curled back from black gums. Alina really would have preferred it if the Apparat  _didn't_  smile, but she wasn't about to mention that.

"You are as much a member of my flock as any other, Alina Starkov. How is it that I may offer assistance?"

Alina leaned forward, implicitly inviting the disgusting man to do the same. Her voice was low, nervous, even though they were alone in her receiving room, and she made sure to glance around it before speaking.

"I have heard that the peasants around Ryevost have taken to wearing yellow."

The smile deepened. "Such a keen ear. A cheering colour, don't you think? The common people of Ravka must take the small joys where they are able to find them."

"Of course." She glanced around again, drawing on eight year old Alina.  _Nervous. Naive. It can't be that hard, Sun Summoner_. "I've been thinking. About what you said, of the Sun Summoner being unable to know Ravka if Ravka doesn't know her."

The Apparat looked delighted. It was as disgusting on him as any other emotion, she supposed.

"The people of Ryevost, at least, have found that their faith was not as misplaced as they feared." He leaned back, and she watched the craggy lines of his face shift into something mournful, heard the tone of his voice shift into something a little more wheedling. "Ah, but faith is a strange thing, Alina Starkov. It is infinite...but only if it is renewed. While the most faithful will always find something to hold onto, the lot of common Ravkans is a harsh one. You cannot blame them for needing more than a rumour, can you?"

Alina bit her lip, looking down at her hands and hoping she wasn't overselling it. It was feasible, wasn't it? That an arrogant girl could have faced the realities of Ravka and come back more willing to be moulded?

"Thank you," she murmured. "You have given me much to think about."

It was a clear dismissal, but the Apparat didn't move. Alina resisted the urge to grind her teeth, wishing she could just toss the subterfuge aside and order him out.

But she wasn't the Darkling. And even he had men he had to work his way around, that he needed too much to simply intimidate into doing what he wanted. So Alina stood hastily, holding her hand out to the priest.

"I have other duties to attend to. But I thank you for your time."

He took her hand. But instead of shaking it, he pressed his rank mouth to the back of it, distressingly gentle for such a rough man. It took everything in Alina not to just shriek and yank her hand back.

"No, Alina Starkov. I thank  _you_."

And then he was gone. Alina spent the next ten minutes washing her hand, trying to get the stink of him off.

But she had the information she needed. And that was worth a thousand disgusting hand kisses.

Alina shuddered, pulling a face at herself in the mirror over the basin. Well. It was at least worth that one.

 

**interlude.**

"I have an apology to make," the Darkling murmured.

It took everything in Genya not to falter, not to stare up at the man in shock. They walked together, along the narrow path she had taken many times before with this man. There was a warmth in the air, the promise of spring breaking through the winter chill. His hair was still wet from the baths, curling against his neck.

Genya wondered if Alina had ever seen the Darkling's hair loose.

She hoped not.

He was smiling at her now, but it was a gentle sort of amusement. The kind that would have made her crave to be in on the joke, only months ago. She ducked her head now, to hide the strange emptiness in her chest.

"No curiosity as to what it's about, Genya?"

 _No willingness to play your games, Darkling_. But she knew better than to say that, no matter how he pretended at something like equality with her. She could still feel his mouth on her ear, the cool brush of his breath.

She would not mistake his control for love again.

"Of course," she murmured. "But such a momentous occasion - I wouldn't want to ruin the delivery."

He laughed, and the sound was as beautiful as the rest of him. It worked its way inside Genya, edging into that strange emptiness. She did stumble then, unsure whether or not to let it stay.

He caught her arm. Careful, gentle. And he let her go as soon as she was stable again, knowing her distaste for being touched without permission. They stopped walking, his whole body turning into hers.

Intimate, but distant. For his sake or hers, she couldn't tell.

"I asked you, not so long ago, if I had been cruel to you."

Genya waited. It seemed the only safe thing to do.

The Darkling sighed. "At the time, I thought the answer was no. But my behaviour that day - I could not blame you for answering that question with a yes now, Genya."

It was another cruelty that he waited, then, expectant. She was supposed to say something. She had no idea what.

"I have always been afraid of you in some way," she offered finally. He didn't look surprised to hear it, and that was why it was safe to say. Everyone was afraid of the Darkling in some way.

Except, perhaps, Alina Starkov.

"But I was not afraid of what you might do. To me."

Also obvious. Genya had thought the worst thing in the world had already happened to her, and she had volunteered for it. And losing Alina would perhaps not be worse than that. But that wouldn't make the blow any less fatal to her soul.

"And now you are."

Genya ducked her head. Her lips felt numb, but she echoed his words anyway. "And now I am."

He didn't touch her. He kept a careful distance, respecting the space between them, and Genya felt a rush of appreciation. She knew his methods with others, knew the way he tilted chins and touched hair, small and intimate touches to invite people into his confidence. He at least respected her enough to not try those tricks on her.

"I spoke in haste," he said quietly. "And out of fear for Alina. The Little Palace is the only place she is truly safe, Genya, and she was gone from it. And in my fear for her, I am now afraid I have lost whatever faith you might have had in me."

Genya imagined he must be. She was a pivotal piece in his plan, after all, whatever that plan happened to be. Too many things would fall apart if she backed out now, although his behaviour after Alina had left had called into question whether or not she even had the  _choice_  to back out.

She always thought she had. He had always given every impression that her actions were hers alone. But for the first time in her life, Genya had to wonder what would  _really_ happen if she told him she didn't want to play his game any longer.

They were both lucky, she thought, that she still did.

"Faith is a strange thing," she murmured. "You still have mine."

 _As long as I still have Alina_. But that was definitely not a safe thing to say. And there was something about the lines of his body, the twist to his mouth - he knew anyway. And he was not happy.

"Thank you, Genya."

She swallowed, closing her eyes for a brief second, nodding. "She's planning on leaving again, I think."

He didn't hesitate, didn't pause for even a second. But she felt the shift in the air, the sudden stillness of his body. She'd taken him by surprise.

"Oh? And what makes you think that?"

"Nothing concrete. You know she met with the Apparat. An  _oprichnik_ , one of the ones she trusts, was looking for a map the other day. And she asked me - she asked me if I could organise some clothes made up for her.  _Kefta_  in gold, instead of black."

His face revealed nothing to her. Nothing she could slip into a conversation with Alina, no warning she could give the other do.

The only thing Genya could really do was hope. And she had long ago learned the folly of that.

 

**viii.**

"You have been busy."

Alina closed her eyes and her fist as the Darkling's voice wrapped around her. The light playing about the trees abruptly ceased, leaving them to the dusk.

He was standing right behind her. She could feel the heat of him, and wondered how he'd managed to get in so close without her noticing.

"So have you," she pointed out, not turning around. "This is the first I've spoken to you since the fete. And we live next to each other."

"You haven't come to see me any more than I have come to see you."

"Maybe I wasn't in the mood for being  _rejected_  again."

She pursed her lips together the second the words left them. She hadn't meant to say that, hadn't even  _wanted_ to. And yet, there they were. Floating in the empty space between them.

His laugh brushed the back of her neck. "I didn't realise you wanted to dance with me so badly. You seemed...focussed, on Ivan."

_Don't turn around. Don't give him that satisfaction._

"You seemed focussed on me," she pointed out. "You couldn't keep your eyes off me."

"Perhaps I was concerned that you would disappear on me again."

"This is the cost of being challenged, Darkling." She did turn then, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze directly. She wasn't going to back down, and she wasn't going to get worked up about this either. She knew what she was doing, and he couldn't control her. "It something I think you need to think about more often. When you wonder why it is my room is empty and I am not where you want me to be, remember that this is what you wrought."

The amusement slipped from his features, and Alina felt the smirk tug at her mouth at the way his gaze darkened when he looked at her. The innuendo had been unintentional, but it was clear that was how he was reading it anyway. There was something deliciously satisfying in that, in knowing that the thought of her being with Ivan got under his skin.

"What you do with your free time, Alina, is none of my concern."

"I'm the Sun Summoner. All of my time is free."

That sat between them for a moment, sounding like an ultimatum that it wasn't. Alina waited for the Darkling to open his mouth, to speak, and deliberately interrupted him.

"I'm sure you know I'm leaving by now," she said simply. "And before you rummage through your contingency plans to try and find the right one to make me stay, I'm going save you some time. There is nothing you can do to make me stay."

His eyebrows twitched up. He was going with indulgent, then. Allowing slack on her reins before he pulled her in again. But Alina had been tugged back and forth by this man enough times over her lifetime that, if she wasn't immune to his draw, she could at least resist it.

She stepped forward, into his space. Her voice pitched low, like his had done so many times before, and she looked up at him through her lashes.

"Either what you've promised me is true, and we're to be partners in this grand plan of yours," she murmured. "Or I'm a pawn. If we're partners, then you have to have faith in me. I have to be able to come and go as I choose, the same way you do. If I'm a pawn to be controlled, then reveal your hand now and stop me."

For a moment, nothing. He remained still and silent, pale and beautiful enough to be a statue. The only clue that he was alive was his breath, ghosting across her face, mingling with hers.

It would be so easy to kiss him.

And then he moved, stepping in close enough that his  _kefta_ brushed hers. He dipped his head, and she felt her lips curve into a smile as his whispered against the shell of her ear, the barest amount of pressure.

"You've missed the third option."

"Are you going to seduce me into staying, Darkling?"

"Are you so sure it wouldn't work, Alina?"

Saints, she wanted to shiver, wanted her body to chase the sound of his voice as it worked its way through her. But she resisted, tipping her head forward until it rested against his shoulder. He started against the contact, and she knew that he'd expected her to pull away. To be embarrassed, maybe even ashamed of the thick weight in the air between them.

If he wanted her to be surprised by intimacy from him, he probably should have taken that into account before he started showing up in her tent.

"I'm sure that my freedom means more to me than any kiss from you," she told his shoulder. "And I'm sure that if I can't exercise my power against Ravka's enemies, then I'll use it to win Ravkan support. And I'm very, very sure that you want me winning that support for you."

He wasn't as still as she had initially thought. There was a fine tremor running through him, a current of energy. He was holding himself back from something, and if she didn't know what it was, she liked that she could bring him to this point. She liked that he didn't have the control he thought he did, and that she could throw that in his face.

"The third option," he said finally, and this time she did shiver at the touch of his mouth on her skin, "is that you are still a pawn. And that I am letting you leave to give you the illusion of the power you crave."

She pressed her smile into his throat, just for a second. His skin was as cool as the rest of him. Alina couldn't deny that she wanted to know what it took to get this man heated up.

And then she stepped back, pulling away completely. "Then the next few years are going to be very interesting, aren't they?" Her smile widened. "Stay in touch. Let me know if you find the stag, won't you?"

 

**ix.**

"I hope you know what you're doing," Genya murmured, straightening the golden fur that was currently attempting to strangle Alina. "Normal people hate Grisha, you do know that, don't you? And there are no fetes in the middle of nowhere."

Alina snorted, letting her friend arrange her as she saw fit. "I'm not going to the middle of nowhere, Genya. And I've had enough fetes for a lifetime."

" _Blasphemy_."

"No." Alina regarded her reflection over Genya's shoulder, the way light glinted off the gold of her  _kefta_. "What comes next is blasphemy. But I promise you that you can dress me up however you wish when I return, all right? Ringlets all around."

Genya sniffed. There was no hiding the worry in her golden gaze, but she made a good effort at it anyway. Alina could appreciate that. "Ringlets are  _so_  three years ago. And you'll be lucky if I don't make all of your hair simply fall out. If you stay away too long, I really  _will_  do that."

Alina leaned in and kissed Genya on the cheek. "Can you imagine the fit the king would have if I stayed away too long? He'd start suspecting I was raising the countryside against him, or something equally ridiculous."

They both grinned at that.

"I'll be back for my birthday," Alina promised. "And I'll write in the meantime."

"In between dazzling peasants?"

"In between giving them hope."

"Same difference," Genya grumbled. She sounded good natured, but her grip on Alina was too-tight as they hugged one last time. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Does that sound like me?"

Genya had the grace not to answer that.

 

**interlude.**

They started as whispers, at first.

A Grisha, never before seen, had been aiding travellers along the Vy. An angel had been blessing the fields.

A saint had been seen walking the graves of dead soldiers.

All wrapped in gold and light, she had even been seen to walk into the Shadowfold unscathed. What she did there, none knew - there were no rumours of crossings made easier, no extra shipments coming through.

In fact, for the most part, the lot of the common people stayed exactly the same. And yet the whispers grew into a rumble nonetheless, and spread across the land.

The Sun Summoner was real. And she was amongst the Ravkan people.

On the outskirts of Poliznaya, a boy stared up at the sun, until the blazing ball burned out all other colours and imprinted itself on everything he chose to look at.

"I'll find you," he muttered, and then turned his head and spat.

Sun Summoners didn't need trackers to come running after them.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rocks up six weeks late with starbucks I HOPE YOU LIKE THE CHAPTER GUYS, THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME

**i.**

Saints, she missed him.

It was ridiculous. Looking back over her life, the time Alina had spent away from the Darkling more than equaled the time she had spent around him. She'd been away from him on multiple occasions, for months at a time. Or, more specifically, he had been away from her.

The first few times, as a lonely and scared eight year old torn from everything she had ever known, she had missed him something awful whenever he left. Thinking about it now, surrounded by her small retinue and still feeling utterly alone, it had only been once she had settled into the Little Palace that she had ever stopped. She had carved out her own place there, even as he carved himself into her.

So long as she had her home, she could ignore the sting of separation. And then there was Genya, of course. Alina thought she could weather anything, so long as Genya stood beside her. But now she had neither Genya nor the Little Palace, and her attempts at carving out a place for herself in Ravka without the Darkling there to guide her sometimes felt like a small child drawing in the sand. She was just waiting for the tide to rush in.

A steady hand held something steaming in front of her face - a tin cup, some sort of dark liquid. Alina trusted her  _oprichniki_  not to poison her. Even the ones that had started off this little excursion loyal to the Darkling.

"Consider sleep, Sun Summoner." The woman holding the cup was a hard-bitten blonde. About the only remarkable thing about her was the pinched look to her features. Whenever her face was in repose - typically when she wasn't looking at Alina - she had the bland look of a moderately prosperous merchant's daughter. "We enter the Fold tomorrow."

Alina accepted the cup silently, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder at the seething mass of darkness. The first time she had come here, she hadn't been able to tell. Not until the power of the Unsea had enveloped her, wrapped itself tightly around her, probing for any hole in her defenses.

Now, though? Now she could practically taste the Darkling in the air, even though he was picking off raiding parties in the south. After a hundred and twenty years studying the thing, had he come to mimic it? Or was this awful familiarity just a side-effect of being a Darkling?

Alina had always assumed that the Black Heretic had used his own shadow powers to create the Fold, but what if it was the other way around? If he had been some other kind of Grisha who had reached too far, if his hubris had tainted his family line through the centuries to now.

If that was the case, what would happen to the Darkling if she ever managed to tear the thing apart?

"Thank you, Natalya," she said belatedly, lifting the cup to her lips. Broth of some sort. Their supplies were running low - enough to take them through the Fold, but they would have to restock in Novokribirsk. "I'll head to my bedroll after this, if you promise to stop glaring at me like that."

Natalya ducked her head. "I don't make promises, Sun Summoner." But her expression eased somewhat as she melted back amongst her fellows.

Academically, Alina had learnt all about how to lead a small group like this. She knew all about logistics, about managing personalities, about how you were supposed to portray yourself to your people. Actually doing it had proved to be another thing entirely.

She revelled in it. The chance to put her knowledge into practice, to actually do something on her own, for herself - it lit a fire in her, and she had watched the sparks seed themselves in her guards as the weeks wore on. She wasn't ashamed to admit to herself that she had taken a few pages out of the Darkling's book - she ate with them, sat with them, took no more than her fair share. His methods worked, and the end result was more important than the means by far.

Her people would be  _her_  people, and hers alone. There was even a certain sweetness to the thought of using the Darkling's training against him, something to help wash down the bitterness of his absence.

She had taken it further. The Darkling had a certain charisma, but it was fed by an undercurrent of fear. That fear gave him respect, and a large part of Alina craved the same thing. She even knew that she could probably, if she put her mind to it, achieve it.

But not as well as him. She might use some of his little tricks of manipulation, but she couldn't use them all. She would never  _be_  the Darkling, and she didn't want to was the whole point of setting out on her own, of finding another path to her own power.

So she had set out on the long and arduous path of making her guards love her instead. She made it clear she would put herself on the line to protect them - bandits did have some use, it was turning out. She fought alongside them, trained with them, carefully wormed her way into their stories and jokes, their history and their heartbreaks.

It had worked on Ivan, and that had mostly been an accident. Alina didn't especially like the part of her that turned feelings into numbers, that carefully analysed every interaction she had with the people around her, but she needed it. So she embraced it, and now she had guards who brought her broth on their own initiative, and hen-pecked her to sleep without fear of reproach.

She realised there was a certain insanity about the gnawing ache in her chest when she thought about the Darkling, and the fact that she was essentially trying to steal his own people from under his nose. There was a certain insanity to everything about her life, really. It didn't bother her.

 

**ii.**

Silence in the Fold was terrifying. The eerie stillness magnified every move Alina's party made, making even Ravka's best trained soldiers jump and twitch.

Still, it was better than sound. She had never actually been attacked by volcra before, but the rustle of wings, their too-human cries were even more terrifying than the phantom monsters they made for themselves. It was Alina's job to stay steady in the centre of her guards, her face calm and impassive, her light steady.

Each uneventful trip into the darkness tied these men and women closer to her. She could feel it in the eyes on her, hear it in whispers behind her back. She was becoming less and less a sixteen year old girl to them, the image of the Darkling's protege fading to be replaced with the figure of the Sun Summoner.

It felt good.

They never came out of the Fold in a blaze of glory. It was tempting - Saints, was it ever tempting - but there were certain rules Alina had to play by here, even as she worked to redefine the board. The Shadowfold was one of the greatest weapons Ravka's enemies had. If it seemed at any point like it was going to be under threat , border skirmishes could turn into an invasion.

Neither Fjerda nor the Shu Han wanted Ravka to be in a position to recover her strength. The idea had been hammered into Alina's head over and over, and as much as she wanted to yank it out, it remained stubbornly the truth. So Alina dedicated herself to other, simpler miracles, and let the Ravkan people wonder to themselves how it was their new figure of hope managed to get about the country.

It was a thin fiction to her mind, but apparently all diplomacy relied on such fictions. She wondered if, after a few decades or centuries, she'd have the patience to deal with them. Right now, removing herself from the Grand Palace where they thrived was the only way she could stop herself from tearing them all apart.

So they exited the Fold under the cover of the night, blackness bleeding into blue until the shadows around them formed shapes, instead of one solid mass. Her guards were the bravest _otkazat'sya_  in the country, but she still heard them breathe a collective sigh of relief as the oppressive darkness of the Fold relented.

Alina held her breath, forced it even. Her mind roiled, torn between that same relief, and the peculiar agony of absence.

It felt like him. Why did it feel like him?

They wended their way through the countryside, Alina exercising both her power and her creativity. It had been easier in the colder months, when a haze of warmth on a bad night was sometimes all a village needed to feel like they had been touched by a miracle. Throughout the interior, she had begun to hear the whispers, and the whispers that became chatter.  _Sankta Alina_.

She wondered if the Apparat would be pleased, or horrified.

But it was warming up now, and the people on the seaward side of the Fold - the True Sea - had less need for hope. Sankta Alina had made her way here as well, but she was viewed as more of a party trick, a peasant's tale. The sentiments of the noblewomen at the Winter fete echoed in this more prosperous part of Ravka. Saints were for the poor and the hopeless. Unless they could get rid of pirates and thieves that haunted the trade routes, what was the point of them?

Alina killed a lot of bandits, in west Ravka.

It was mid-morning when Erik returned to the abandoned farmhouse they had set up in. Her party camped in out of the way places, never in towns. What use would a Saint have for inns, after all? So she sent her guards out as scouts, dressed in traders' clothes so they would have an excuse for asking annoying questions.

"Report," she said shortly, not taking her eyes off Olga. The two of them stood in a wonky circle drawn in the dirt, eyeing each other warily.

"Os Kervo has solved its pirate problem, Miss Alina,"

Miss Alina gritted her teeth, throwing herself into an attack. Olga grunted, attempting to take the force of it.

"Did the Navy finally get off its ass and blockade the harbour?"

"Not the Navy. There is a blockade, but it's being run by a third party. A man they call Sturmhond."

Olga broke away, swung back with impressive speed. Alina's speed was more impressive; she ducked under the  _oprichnik's_  arm and grabbed it, twisting it up behind her back. "A pirate solved their pirate problems?"

She cursed as the heel of Olga's boot connected with her shin. The older woman took advantage of her momentary imbalance, and the world tipped upside down as Alina sailed towards the edge of the circle. She regained herself before she crossed it, gaining her ground and launching herself at her opponent again.

"A privateer. He is, technically, under the employ of the Crown."

"And untechnically?"

A smile touched Erik's lips, although whether that was because of Alina's choice of words, or the way her fist caught Olga in the jaw remained to be seen. "Untechnically, Miss Alina, whoever pays him the most. His fleet won't attack Ravkan vessels, but that's about the limit of his patriotism."

A series of steady, inexorable punches forced Olga out of the circle, prompting a cheer for the other guards who had been watching. Olga spat off to the side, and bared a bloody grin at the her. "Not bad, Sun Summoner."

Alina gave a mocking little bow in return, accepting a towel from one of her other guards. She turned back to Erik, shaking out her hair. "I imagine he's bleeding the place dry for his services, then?"

"It's my understanding. They don't seem to mind."

"Give it some time." She raised her voice slightly, inviting the rest of her guards into her council. "We'll move on. Circle around to the north, cross back over the Fold at one of the thinner points, head back towards Os Alta for the summer solstice. Os Kervo may feel differently about their new saviour after a couple of months alone with him."

And Alina wasn't sure that publically trying to deal with pirates on her own was a good idea. It probably fell into the category of 'drawing too much attention'. It was a difficult balance to maintain, being a hero for Ravka, but not a threat to Ravka's enemies.

"More bandits then, Miss Alina?" Erik asked.

She grinned back at him. "Just doing our civil duty, Mister Erik."

 

**iii.**

"Alina Starkov, whoever taught you how to write letters needs to be  _shot_."

Alina started at the melodious familiarity of the voice floating through from her sitting room. That was her only hesitation, though - she was out the connecting door and colliding with Genya before the beautiful girl could get another word out of her mouth.

"It's a little difficult to find a courier in the middle of the countryside," she informed a mass of red hair as she buried her face in Genya's shoulder, hugging her tightly. The older girl's arms were around her instantly, hugging her back just as hard. "I missed you. Are you - is everything all right?"

She pulled away, staring anxiously up into her friend's face. Genya smiled back with her typical infuriating calmness, running a hand back through Alina's hair. "As fine as ever. The king  _was_ angry at you, but reports out of Os Kervo have distracted him."

Alina felt the sweat and grime of travel lifting from her hair with each pass of Genya's hand, and sighed, letting her work. It wasn't like she'd get any peace if she didn't. "The king is always angry at me. Is the king angry enough about the pirates to do anything about it?"

"Oh, Saints no." Genya rolled her eyes, and somehow managed to make the gesture look as elegant as a curtsey. "He couldn't figure out what to do about them even if all his advisors were in accordance, and they aren't. But a coalition of merchants corralled by Prince Nikolai have agreed - oh, I don't remember the details, they were mind-numbingly boring. But changes are going to be made to the harbour, and it's due to the prince, and the king can't decide if he's happy about that or enraged."

"So he's forgotten to be angry at me for fermenting dissent?"

"As though dissent doesn't ferment because of his sheer existence," Genya muttered. "But yes, for the time being, he's forgotten. I'm sure he'll remember as your birthday celebrations roll around and everyone else proceeds to be delighted with you."

"What a shame."

Genya's giggle was a delight. After a beat or two, Alina joined in.

 

**iv.**

_Alina - or am I allowed to address a Saint with such familiarity? Your name is on the lips of every peasant in the south. Your last letter said you were planning on staying west._

_The Darkling has decided we will be staying in the field all through summer. Shu Han is being particularly vicious this season, and he feels they could use some harsh lessons. Obviously he's right, but I don't know when I'll see you again._

_Happy Birthday._

_-Ivan._

* * *

_Ivan,_

_You can call me whatever you like. Especially after seeing that knife, it's beautiful. Thank you._

_This is the nature of being Grisha, I suppose. It won't be forever._

_\- Alina._

* * *

**Attached to a** _**kefta** _ **made of cloth-of-gold, embroidered intricately in black:**

_Happy Birthday,_ solntse

_Darkling,_

* * *

_Am I thirteen again?_

_The_ kefta _is beautiful._

_Yours,_

_Alina._

* * *

_Would you prefer Sankta?_

* * *

_Alina,_

_I thought it suited you. Try to avoid getting into situations where you need to use it, would you?_

_It had better not be forever. But we're taking heavier casualties than usual this season. Something's spooked the enemy. It might take longer to crush them than expected._

_But we will crush them._

_Look after yourself._

_\- Ivan._

* * *

_I'd prefer longer letters, Darkling. Sending the courier so far for a single line is a waste, don't you think?_

_His Majesty is displeased with my efforts. The rest of Ravka doesn't seem to give a damn what the king thinks at this point, which isn't exactly the worst thing in the world._

_I'd be interested to know your thoughts on Sankta Alina, but only if you're going to be honest. You haven't made up an excuse to drag me back to the Little Palace permanently yet, so I can only assume you aren't that displeased._

_What can you tell me about Prince Nikolai? Other than the fact that he's likely a bastard, and apparently doing ten million apprenticeships? I find it hard to believe that the brother of Vasily managed to get merchants to part with their money for the public good, no matter who his father is._

_I'll be back on the road soon. Genya will forward your reply to the largest town in my general area._

_Yours,_

_Alina_

_And why did you get me a dress, when Ivan got me a knife? One of these things is a lot more practical than the other._

* * *

_Alina,_

_It's never a waste to send you a letter._

_His Majesty sustains himself on displeasure at us both. If he were ever happy with either one of us, he would have to admit that his policies are flawed._

_I am honest with you far more than I think you give me credit for. Everything I have kept from you, I have kept for your own well-being. You have thrown a lot of accusations at me over the years, Alina, but not once have you said that I have failed you._

_This Saint business is a double edged sword. Faith is a useful weapon, but there is a reason I look to the Apparat for advice on such matters. You manage yourself well, but the longer this goes on without resolution, the more Ravka will start seeing broken promises where none were made. I worry that you don't understand the magnitude of what you've embarked on._

_On the other hand, we may yet achieve a resolution. The stag has not been sighted, but whispers of it remain persistent. I know your own faith in me is lacking on this point, but try to hold onto it anyway. You will have your amplifier._

_Nikolai Lantsov has all of the arrogance of his parents, and some of the brains they both lack. I've never had much contact with the boy, but my impression has always been that he has a lot to compensate for. I wouldn't put it past him to put his mind to solving the Os Kervo issue in his father's name, if only because the world knows Vasily never could._

_The_ oprichnik _carrying this letter has orders to give it to no one but you, directly. I'm sure you understand why, upon having read it. Such is the price of demanding long letters, Alina._

_And I got you the_ kefta _because you have a knife. You are a smart girl. Anything you need, I expect you already have. I would rather give you something you could enjoy purely for its own sake._

_I look forward to seeing you wear it._

* * *

_You are going to get yourself in trouble._

* * *

_I thought it was a waste of a courier to send letters with only a single line?_

* * *

_Alina,_

_Is this revenge for the last time I didn't write for weeks? I can at least assume you're still alive. Your name follows me even here._

_That's not necessarily a good thing. The border people are starting to wonder why Ravka's newest myth isn't paying them any attention. Tread carefully._

_\- Ivan._

* * *

_Ivan,_

_My name follows you around because I've been busy. Don't worry; I didn't forget you._

_There hasn't been occasion to use your knife yet, you'll be happy to know. I've had bandits out my ears, but going hand to hand doesn't exactly suit my image. Or does knowing I'm getting into fights with bandits still set your heart racing in a panic?_

_On a completely unrelated note, how is the crushing going?_

_\- Alina._

* * *

_Alina_

_Trust me. I was never worried you would forget me._

_How about you find a way to see me in person, and we'll see whose heart is racing? The crushing has gone well. The Darkling is returning to the interior. Apparently people have been making noise about the difficulties of crossing the Fold lately, and the king wants us to babysit it. I don't know what he expects us to do about it, but it means we'll be staying in one place for a few weeks._

_\- Ivan._

 

**v.**

Alina eyed herself in the age-spotted mirror, turning this way and that to examine every inch of the  _kefta_. The fact that the inn had had a mirror at all was a minor miracle. The fact that she'd been able to hide the fact that the mirror was the reasons they were in an inn at all, was a major coup.

_I look forward to seeing you wear it._  Those words had haunted her for weeks. She wasn't sure why she'd thought that asking Genya to send the  _kefta_  to Kribirsk would help her rid herself of them, but here she was. Trying to make sure that the beautiful, heavy material flattered every inch of her.

It did. Did the Darkling know her measurements? That was ridiculous. He had probably just asked Genya to have something nice made, although Genya herself had kept suspiciously silent on the whole affair.

Alina tried not to think too far into the implications of the fact that the Darkling could coerce her best friend into keeping things from her, even if they were about something as minor as an outfit. That way lay madness. She busied herself with being mad that Genya couldn't send herself with the  _kefta_ , and brushed out her hair until the waves shone in a single, undulating sheet of hair.

Catching it up in the diamond hairpins took far too much effort on her own, but she was boxing Sankta Alina away for the duration of her time on the edge of the Fold. That figure was for _otkazat'sya_. If she was due to be surrounded by Grisha, she needed to be every inch the Sun Summoner.

Finally, she finished with her hair, carefully observing the effect in the mirror. Diamonds glittered in the sun, scattering light around the room in a dizzying array. A few strands escaped the carefully constructed knot of hair, curling artfully against the long stretch of her neck. She looked at once casual, and immaculately put together. Genya would be proud.

As for the  _kefta_ -

It looked nice.

 

**vi.**

Standing on a white horse in the middle of the road to stop the carriage was probably a bit much. The gentle glow of white pulsing around her and her  _oprichniki_  was definitely overkill, but sometimes when it came to Grisha, overkill was required. Mostly, she didn't want any of the Darkling's guards shooting her out of the saddle for thinking her a threat.

Being instantly recognisable was a handy trick, sometimes.

One of the Darkling's men approached the black carriage, tapping carefully on the door. Behind it, Alina watched a scowling head pop out of the window, and resisted the urge to give Zoya a little wave. The older girl kept scowling anyway. Alina found she could live with that.

"Why have we stopped?"

The growl was familiar. She waited for a thrill of  _something_  to course through her, but after recognition hit, nothing much else followed. The guard murmured something that included the words _Sun Summoner_ , and then stumbled back as Ivan all but shoved him out of the way.

Alina turned off her glow. It didn't seem to help the  _Coporalnik_ , who looked a little like he'd been punched in the face. Except, if someone actually punched Ivan in the face, she was relatively sure he'd kill them.

She tilted her mouth up at him. "Cat got your tongue?"

If it did, it let it go then. Ivan scowled at her, doing a remarkably good impression of Zoya as he stalked towards her horse. She signalled to her  _oprichniki_  to stand down, lest they decide he was a threat to her instead of just over-bearing. Reluctantly, they did so, allowing him to come up to her horse and hold a hand up to her.

"Allow me to escort you to the carriage," he ground out. "Before someone decides to shoot a giant, highly seated,  _glowing_  target."

Alina swung her leg over the horse's back and got her own damn self onto the ground. "I've been shot before. It wasn't so bad."

" _Alina_."

" _Ivan_." She turned around, and before he could blink, she was in his space. She could feel the brush of his breath over his face, see the rise and fall of his chest, a little faster than it should have been. And  _there_  was the thrill, just a little one, brought on by their proximity and his obvious irritation.

On impulse, she pressed her palm to his chest, the left side.

"What are you doing?"

Her lips tipped up a little higher. "Checking to see if your heart's racing."

He snorted, but something softened in the dark of his gaze, even as he pushed her hand away. "You look beautiful," he said grudgingly, as they started to walk. "It's doing something."

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and imitate the action in public. Alina could hear her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears as they approached the black carriage, a steady  _thud, thud, thud._

She got in first. And it was a good thing too, because the Darkling's cool gaze raked over every inch of her with barely a flicker of an eyelid, from her hair to her mouth to the slit in her  _kefta_ that revealed the black of her riding breeches.

His colour. Even now, she hadn't been able to disconnect herself from his colour.

"You look well, Alina," he said softly, as Ivan returned to the carriage and shut the door. A shouted instruction had the carriage lurching forward again.  _Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud._

She crossed one leg over the other, settling easily back into the plush carriage seats. "I know."

His chuckle wafted over her like an autumn wind, gentle, but chilling nonetheless. Next to him, Fedyor looked like the definition of uncomfortable. Ivan shifted, as though he wanted to move closer to her and didn't dare. Keeping her gaze locked on the Darkling, Alina did it instead, until she was close enough that her shoulder brushed the  _Corporalnik's_.

"How long are we planning on staying?" she asked lightly.

"Long enough for the skiffs to reach Novokribirsk and back." The Darkling's gaze flickered to the near point of contact between her and Ivan, and then back to her face. "At least."

"And I suppose the chances of me going along for the ride…?"

"Are nil." His mouth curved up in a humourless smile. "I'm sure you'll find some way of amusing yourself."

Next to her, Ivan stiffened. But Alina surprised herself by gifting the Darkling's chuckle back to him, turning away from him first and directing her gaze out the window instead. Once, it might have been a sign of weakness. Now, she was proving to the both of them that he couldn't captivate her attention.

"I'm sure I will."

There were soldiers outside. Not  _oprichniki_ , just - average soldiers. Alina wondered if they were supposed to be marching. They were doing a terrible job of it, some of them wandering all over the road. A loud curse rent the air, followed by a scuffle. Disregarding appearances completely, Alina tilted her head out of the window to see a brown-haired boy being held back by a huge red-head.

The brown-haired boy had blue eyes, and they blazed something like hatred at her as the carriage trundled on. Alina frowned - she had been on the road for months now, had killed more people than she could conveniently remember. And yet no one had ever looked at her with hatred. Fear, yes. But there was none of that in this brown-haired boy's handsome face.

She was almost too far away to see him clearly, now. She gave a little shrug to herself, moving to pull her head back inside. Just before the distance whipped away any chance of visibility, though, she watched the hatred in his face abruptly rearrange. Shock, first, and then a horrible understanding.

"Giving the peasants a show?" Ivan snorted. He didn't tug her back inside, but she could tell he wanted to. She waited a second or two, but the boy was gone, stolen from her by the thundering of horse hooves and the ongoing trundle of wheels.  _Thudthudthudthudthudthud._

"They deserve something," she muttered, returning to her seat and pretending not to notice the way the Darkling looked at her as she tried to settle herself.

 

**interlude.**

She had diamonds in her hair, and the cloth draped over her shoulders was of gold rather than black, but he knew her. A girl like that, you would have known anywhere.

And that, the boy thought, was the worst part. Because he had recognised that girl first. The one who demanded worship, the one who would trample over anything that got in her way. She was the girl from the forest, and he would have known her anywhere.

It was only after that realisation, as the black carriage and the diamonds and the colour of her dress all drew together into a single picture in the distance, that he realised what it all meant.

_Grisha. Sun Summoner. Sankta_. The boy had been wrong. The order of his realisations was not the worst part.

The worst part was that he had looked Alina Starkov straight in the eye, and she had not known him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS I WILL DEFINITELY REPLY TO YOUR REVIEWS ASAP i just finished this chapter really quickly lmao. hopefully this helps to make up for the massive hiatus??

**i.**

He was just a boy.

An  _otkazat'sya_  boy, even. The fact that Alina had noticed him for more than a second or two was surprising in and of itself. The way the shock on his face lingered in her mind was unexpected, and unwelcome.

He was just a  _boy_. And yes, he was a boy with blue eyes, but there had to be thousands of those spread across Ravka. She had travelled back and forth across the country over the past few months. She saw them all the time.

None of them had ever looked at her like that before.

A tent for her had been set up next to the Darkling's - smaller, she noted, with a dark amusement. There had been a moment there where he had been ready to order her guards into place, but Alina had smoothly inserted her own orders before he could. Erik and Olga she could trust, but she wasn't quite ready to see if the rest of her people would look to her for confirmation or not.

She sat ramrod straight in front of the little travel feel that had been set up for her. One leg crossed over the other, the foot jogging up and down as she tapped a stick of charcoal into dust on a blank sheet of paper.

In her mind's eye, she watched the flicker of emotion over a handsome  _otkazat'sya_  face, again and again and again.

Mal had been chubby. And reserved, in that way that orphans were. And - blonde? Had he been blonde?

Why couldn't she remember what colour hair he'd had?

"Erik."

She did her best to keep her voice even, but the alacrity with which Erik opened the tent flap said she hadn't succeeded. "Yes, Sun Summoner?"

"There was a boy. A soldier, I suppose. He was being held back by some giant redhead. Did you see him?"

"Of course, Miss. We considered, uh, reprimanding him. But Natalya pointed out that would be the opposite of engendering good will as you've been trying to do. We did take note of his regiment, though."

 _Taptaptap_. A part of Alina wished they had reprimanded him, some absurd punishment for sticking in her head the way he was. She recognised the thought as ridiculous, and packed it away.

"A name. Did you get a name?"

"No, Miss Alina. But it shouldn't take me longer than the evening to find out."

"Thank you. Do that. Please."

"Of course."

He bowed, and smoothly exited. Alina stared down at the nub of charcoal in her fingers, the dark smears across her hand, and scowled.

 

**ii.**

"Your hair looks lovely, Sun Summoner. Did you do it yourself?"

Alina smiled back at Zoya, probing the words for any hidden barbs. She couldn't afford to lose face here, amongst her supposed peers. "I've learnt a few tricks here and there."

"Of course. How lucky to have a Tailor as a friend, to help you learn how to manage it." Zoya's own smile was like a row of knives. "A shame Genya couldn't be here with us."

Alina kept smiling. She was seated in front of the fire with the rest of the Darkling's Grisha, leaning back against Ivan. He had his arms draped loosely - but no less possessively - around her waist, and she rested her hands lightly on top of his. It gave her an air of casual ease, a familiarity with the rest of them that the Darkling didn't have. She was just another Grisha.

Except that when she held Zoya's gaze, silently, with that smile on her face, it was Zoya who broke first. The  _Etherealnik_  looked away, an ugly expression flickering over her features before they smoothed out to an unnatural stillness.

Behind her, Ivan chuckled. Alina felt the sound rumble through her, and imagined the thrill that would have chased it even a year ago. Her twelve year old self probably would have died. Her seventeen year old self?

She thought of the way the Darkling's eyes had skimmed her form earlier that day, and closed her eyes. From any other man, it wouldn't have been notable. From him, it was...something. Everything about him was so controlled. Alina had known him for more than half her life now, and she didn't think she had ever noticed him looking at a woman - or a man - that way. Either he had done it on purpose, or he hadn't been able to help himself.

Alina wasn't sure which possibility she preferred. She could feel the deliberate scrape of his gaze even now, hours later. Something lurched in her gut - or lower, but she didn't want to think about the implications of that. She drew in a controlled breath, released it slowly. Underneath her hands, Ivan's hold on her tightened imperceptibly.

"Zoya's feeling a little fragile." He pitched his voice over the fire. "Getting rejected by an  _otkazat'sya_  boy has to be hard on the ego. What did he say again? 'I prefer girls who have a soul'."

Quiet laughter swept over the group; Ivan accepted a bottle of  _kvas_  from Fedyor, taking a swig over Alina's head. She did her best to sink into him, to relax and enjoy the company of her fellow Grisha. Even if the sudden flash of blue eyes said that Ivan was about to get eviscerated.

"Blind men have no business trying to read maps, Ivan." Zoya's rich voice breezed across the leaping flames. "Maybe you should look a little closer to home before you start sticking your nose into my sex life."

Ivan stiffened. Alina found her smile again. It might not have held as many knives as Zoya, but it still had edge. She presented her back to the other girl, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You didn't tell me you were having problems," she said, loud enough to be overheard by the rest. She ran one hand idly through his hair, smirked a little at the way the anger drained from him. Smugness took its place. "You should have said something sooner. I could have helped."

She leaned in, carried by the hoots and cheers of her fellows. She couldn't say what it was that made her glance away from Ivan, just for a moment. Instinct, maybe. Self-preservation. Whatever it was, she saw him standing in the shadows in the split-second. A chance flare from the fire cast light upon his face, and she took in the careful emptiness there, the way that cool grey gaze had locked on her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up a little higher. And then her attention was back on Ivan, and she kissed him right there in front of them all, slow and deliberate. Her hand dropped from his hair to his chest again.  _Thudthudthudthudthudthud._  Saints, she loved that. She could live off the effect she had on him, had on all of them. Every eye was on her, even if the owner didn't want to be looking.

Alina broke away first, wrapping her fingers around the bottle of  _kvas_  as she did so. Her breath came a little faster despite herself - whatever complications she was having with her own emotions,  _physically_  the man was good at what he did. She returned to her position reclining against Ivan's chest, and held the bottle up.

"To Zoya's sex life!"

A chorus of cheers went up. Even Zoya laughed, although if smiles could wield the Cut, Alina would be in pieces. Alina lifted the  _kvas_  to her mouth and swallowed hard, pretending she couldn't feel the eyes drilling into the back of her head.

 

**iii.**

Whatever show she'd put on for Zoya that night, Alina returned to her tent alone. She did pull Ivan to her at the opening, but she kept her hands firmly over clothes, drawing his mouth gently back to hers when he tried to wander.

"I'm exhausted," she admitted, lying. "It's been a while since I had to deal with so many people."

He snorted, turning his voice gruff to cover his disappointment. She appreciated the effort, at least. "Zoya's the kind of disease you need constant exposure to in order to maintain immunity."

"Exactly." She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

His last kiss was a lot less soft. Alina didn't mind, leaning into it, resisting the urge to curl her fingers into his  _kefta_  and find her feelings for him somewhere in her camp bed.

"Tomorrow," he murmured into her mouth. It sounded like a promise. She wondered what it made her, that she didn't care.

Two of her  _oprichniki_ hovered nearby. Pavel's beige eyebrows had nearly become one with his forehead, but Olga looked completely unphased. Her eyes darted towards the tent flap, followed by a short jerk of her head, and Alina abruptly felt energised in a way she hadn't with Ivan. She mouthed a quiet thank you, and slipped inside.

"You do enjoy invading my personal space, don't you?"

The Darkling surveyed her. He at least kept his eyes on her face this time. She told herself that was a good thing.

"I can go, if you'd prefer."

She snorted, lifting her arms up to her hair. "You already know the answer to that." She slid a pin out, tossed it past him onto the camp bed.

"You'd prefer me in your tent?"

Alina resisted the urge to swallow, pointing another pin at him instead. "Trouble."

"For me, or for you?"

 _Definitely for me._  But she just rolled her eyes, turning her back on him. "If you're going to hover, be useful. Getting these in on my own was hard enough."

A pause. Alina smiled to herself. He never expected her to be quite so forward, although that might have been because moving forward meant digging a hole deeper for herself.

Too late to worry about that now. A rustle of fabric announced movement, and then the faintest pressure of his fingers carded through her hair, carefully easing the pins out. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only increased her awareness of his touch. A shiver built at the nape of her neck, threatening to spill over.

She opened her mouth to say - something, anything. But the words wouldn't come. She shut it again with a click of teeth, audible even over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

"I can stop." His voice was soft. He was always at his most dangerous when he was being gentle.

"No."

His hands kept working, pin after pin dropping onto the thin mattress until the weight of her hair tumbled down her back. They stood there like that for a moment, the Sun Summoner with her eyes shut, the Darkling close enough for her to feel the heat of him. He wasn't close enough to touch, but if she shifted back an infinitesimal amount?

The shiver unfurled from her neck, stretching down the length of her spine. Alina waited for the chuckle, the inevitable sign of amusement, but it never came. He said nothing, did nothing, the silence winding her tighter and tighter until she thought she might shatter from the tension between them.

"Don't say anything." The sound of her own voice sent blood rushing into her cheeks, the tone tipped lower than usual. She cleared her throat. "I have no idea what I'm doing, and you know it."

A soft exhale stirred her hair, and she made the decision to turn around. Something snapped in the air between them, and there was a split second when she faced him where she could have fallen into him just as easily as stepped away. He was disgustingly beautiful. In the months they were apart, he had become a blurred thing in her mind, the edges smudged, the details imprecise. Looking up at him now, her fingers ached with the urge to commit the sharp planes of his face to muscle memory, to etch him more firmly into her mind.

And his eyes. Saints, she wanted to remember that this man had looked at her like that.

She laughed, hated herself for the shaky way it came out. "I should have told Ivan to come in. I should be with him right now."

"If you believed that, he would be here and I would be spending my time more productively."

"Wrapping me further around your finger isn't a productive use of your time?"

Irritation cracked his face. Alina resisted the urge to take another step back as he abruptly closed the space between them. "I have never been able to tell you what to feel, and you know it."

"Much to your disappointment, I'm sure."

"You, on the other hand, don't seem to have the same issue." He stepped off, running a frustrated hand back through his hair. The motion tugged strands loose from his tie, and she wondered if he realised just what the dishevelled look did for him. It was a lot. "Yes, I have managed you. I have kept things from you, and lied to you. You know why, and I won't make excuses or apologies."

"Saints forbid."

His jaw clenched. "I would not volunteer myself for this level of frustration."

Alina stared at him for a moment. He was not, she realised, that much taller than her. Not short, but then neither was she. That ache seeped back into her fingers and she didn't stop herself from reaching up this time, carefully tucking a few locks of hair back behind his ear. He stayed still - so still, in fact, that she could somehow tell he was holding himself back from flinching.

"Did you want something?"

She watched his thoughts go somewhere else, somewhere that made the heat flare in his gaze and spark in her gut before he got a hold of himself. "Do I always have to want something to see you, Alina?"

"I am not answering that question."

A smile tugged at his mouth then. It was small, almost reluctant, but it was there. She let him draw her hand away from his face, ignoring the thrill that raced up her arm. "In which case, I'm not answering yours."

He was careful not to brush up against her as he moved towards the tent flap. Her body turned without thought, drawn unerringly towards him even as she stayed in place. There was a moment, brief, where she thought that was it. That he would return to the outside world and leave her to gather herself in private.

So he paused, of course, because what was a Sun Summoner's life without complications? He spoke to the tent flap, not turning his head.

"The  _kefta_. You made it beautiful."

The fact that she managed to wait until she was sure he was gone before she threw something was, Alina thought, an masterful example of self-restraint.

 

**iv.**

The evening haze was settling into the true dark of night when the tap came, soft against the canvas of her tent.

For a moment she did nothing, lost in her own thoughts. The Darkling valued his precious control highly, but he valued his hold over her probably more. She knew the trick of appearing vulnerable to make someone trust her, maybe better than he did.

"I should have been raised in ignorance," she muttered, glaring up at the roof of her tent. "Then I could have tripped into his arms and wouldn't know to worry about these things."

The tap came again. "Miss Alina? Sun Summoner?"

Erik. Abruptly, the memory of the errand she'd sent him on swamped her, and a strange anxiety bloomed in her chest. She stared at her hand and the tremble that gripped it in something like amazement, before forcing herself off the camp bed. Tucking her hands behind her back, she instructed the oprichnik to enter.

Erik had been her guard for almost nine years. He had always maintained a mostly professional distance, but they knew each other nonetheless. He heard her nightmares as a child, the name she shouted into the dark. And she could read him like a book, see the hesitation and reluctance behind his stony mask.

"It's him," she said, and it was like her mind had taken flight, her body on automatic while the rest of her fled the truth.

He cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was low, for her ears only. "Malyen Oretsev. Soldier of the First Army, tracker. Seventeen years old. Known as a loose cannon, but too good for his superiors to do more than reprimand him occasionally. He - uh, he was also the one who implied Zoya Nazyalensky didn't have a soul, Miss."

Someone laughed, hysteria edging in on the sound. It had to be her, because Erik's mouth was shut.

"Where is he camped?"

"With the trackers. It's not far."

"Take me."

His face remained stony, but she could read  _this is a bad idea written_  in the lines of his body. Alina didn't care. Something soft and quiet and desperate was awake in her chest, and it wouldn't be put to rest until she knew.

What it was that she wanted to know, she was less sure. But for the first time in nine years she had a chance to find out.

 

**v.**

Alina didn't have any neutral clothes.

The revelation shocked her, for some reason. It shouldn't have - it wasn't like she hadn't dressed on the same theme for nearly a decade. Had that felt unusual at some point? Vaguely, she remembered being sick of black, but by the time she had decided to dress in gold, letting go of the black had seemed like a hardship more than a relief.

Something in her gut squirmed as she shed her beautiful new  _kefta_ , wrapping herself in something plainer and darker. It was still a  _kefta_ , still a colour that most Grisha would never dream of wearing, but the black blended in with the dark better than shining gold. Maybe it could pass for blue. Maybe-

Was this how normal people felt all the time? Uncertain, unsure, off balance? Her new anxiety was an unwelcome guest shouldering its way into her body, sitting like a physical lump in the pit of her stomach. She followed Erik out of the Grisha camp, feeling like she was going to throw up.

No one was looking at her, but it felt like a million eyes were raking over her skin anyway. She was raw, exposed. She wanted to go back to her tent, but her feet kept moving.

"I could have him brought to you," Erik said softly. Even he wasn't looking at her, walking slightly before her to give her the illusion of privacy. She appreciated the thought.

"No."  _Something of a loose cannon_. She could already picture how well that would go down, dragging to her tent a boy who had to be held back from launching himself at the Darkling's carriage. "...Thank you for the offer. But no."

She watched Erik's head bob in a nod, and tried to focus on her breathing, on the quiet whistle of air flowing in and out of her lungs. Had Mal - Malyen? The boy? - been implying that it was just Zoya who didn't have a soul? Or did he think that of all Grisha? She could remember with perfect clarity the look of awful realisation on his face earlier in the day, just before the carriage had ripped him from view. Horror at who she was? Horror at what he was doing? Alina had never wished so intensely for the ability to read minds.

Or Genya. Saints, what she would give to have Genya with her.

"Here, Miss Alina." Erik came to a halt, gesturing over a tangle of ropes and tent pegs towards something that resembled a clearing in the forest of canvas. The embers of a firepit burned low; a few soldiers remained huddled around it, but if there had been others, they had since cleared out. "His tent is-"

"This is fine," she said tightly. "Stay here, please."

The way he stiffened said he wasn't happy about that, that amongst these soldiers of the First Army he would rather stick to her side, but Alina didn't need him to be happy. She needed him to stay, and he did, watching her pick her way over the organised tangle of camp life.

The soldiers around the fire glanced over at her, but she must have looked like any one of their companions in the dark, because their gazes slid right over her. She stood at the edge of the misshapen circle, and waited. She wasn't sure for what.

One of the soldiers looked up again. Her night vision was excellent, of course; she could just make out the frown on his face. The precise colour of his eyes was a mystery, but she could tell they weren't blue. His companion opened her mouth, but the first man elbowed her into shutting it. Unease dripped off the both of them, and Alina watched them decide they had better things to do somewhere else, remaining silent and still.

A Grisha would have approached. Or at least called out. But a Grisha didn't have much to fear from a figure in the shadows, even if it was the Darkling. The life of a First Army soldier, on the other hand, had to be full of it. Fear. Strange, that she had spent so many months travelling the country, and hardly come across a single one. But then, they were all engaged at the border, and she was still denied anything but the interior and the few coasts of Ravka that didn't butt up against another country.

Saints forbid she terrify an enemy into announcing a war that was already being fought.

"I hope this isn't your attempt at subtlety."

Alina heard Erik's quiet curse and the hiss of Grisha steel being drawn before she saw the figure melt out of the shadows on the opposite side of the firepit. If she hadn't heard the voice, a little deeper, a little raspier, a lot angrier, she might have assumed it was the Darkling. He moved that smoothly.

It wasn't the Darkling.

A phantom fist seized her throat so forcefully, she panicked for a moment, wondering if Zoya had finally snapped and was trying to kill her. But no, this was just her new friend anxiety trying to ruin her life. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, reminded herself how to breathe.

"Can we get rid of the dog? I'm not going to hurt you." A snort. "I doubt I could."

She wondered if he was right about that.

"It's fine, Erik," she managed. "Stand down."

The beat that followed spoke volumes, but Erik was her man, and he wouldn't defy a direct order. The sound of steel sliding back into its sheath sounded too-loud in the suddenly still air. The figure across the firepit wavered for a moment, like he had moved to step forward, and then stopped itself.

"It's firelight," she blurted. "Not sun. I can't use it."

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Baghra growled in the back of her mind, about the dangers of letting people know the limitations of her power. On the one hand, a stupid, emotional mistake. On the other, she doubted that a boy raised in Keramzin knew that the moon reflected the sun's light. She doubted that any of the soldiers asleep or listening in the tents knew that.

The figure didn't move.

"You know," and saints, that  _voice_. It made her want to charge across the space between them, to reach down his throat and pull it out and demand to know why it was so different. "I must have planned this moment a thousand times, but I never pictured it like this."

Neither had Alina. The words battered at her throat. She could  _see_  herself saying them, hear the self-deprecating laugh that would follow. She would move into the light and they would sit down together, and nearly a decade of history would spill out of their mouths and pool between them.

But she didn't move, and neither did he. The words died on the back of her tongue.

"You should be careful of Zoya," she said finally. "The Grisha with-"

"I know her name."

Alina swallowed a sudden surge of irritation at being interrupted. "Right. Well, she doesn't enjoy being humiliated. You need to be more careful. You're lucky someone didn't shoot you after that display this afternoon."

" _Display?_ " A disbelieving laugh. It was everything the Darkling's quiet chuckle lacked, loud and brash and derisive. Emotion threaded every soundwave. "Your precious carriage just about ran me off the road. I'm supposed to just stand there and take it?"

"You're supposed to not get yourself killed," she snapped.

"Well, maybe that would be easier to do if you people knew how to drive."

" _You people_? Nine years, and I get  _you people_?"

He started forward into the light, and Alina caught sightof the anger twisting that handsome face before a whistle and a  _thunk_  forced him back. She whirled around to glare at Erik, still standing exactly where she'd left him.

"I told you to stand down."

The man's stony expression was gone, replaced by pure apology. "Yes, Sun Summoner."

No apologies, no excuses. Erik's pride wouldn't allow for it.

"The man tries to protect you, and you're going to chew him out for that, too?"

Erik's whole body twitched. She watched his hand stray towards another knife, before swaying back to a more relaxed position. Barely.

Alina turned back to the boy. "As someone who just called him a  _dog_ , you aren't exactly in a position to be offended."

"Oh, I'm not offended. Disgusted, maybe, but not offended. The way you treat him doesn't hurt  _my_  feelings."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you know what? I probably don't. Maybe that has something to do with  _nine years_  going by without even a damn note on a scrap of paper."

Alina felt like the air had been punched out of her. Words crowded in her mouth - excuses - fighting for the chance to stretch across the space between them. She clenched her jaw on them.

"This was never going to go the way either of us planned," she said shortly. She sounded like a stranger, her tone distant, clipped. "I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you hoped and dreamed, Mal. But however you settled on picturing it, you can set it to rest now. This is who I am. If that's a big disappointment to you, well, at least you have some closure."

She did a one-eighty, stepping quickly towards Erik. There was a dreadful pain in her stomach, and it was all she could do to stop herself from wrapping her arms around it.

"Yeah, at least I do!"

She let him have the last word, even though the urge to yell something back thrashed like a wild thing inside her. She let him have it, because she was afraid that if she opened his mouth again, she'd prove him wrong.

He could definitely hurt her.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it is a million o'clock at night on a work day, y'all better believe i love you

**i.**

It was dark, and quiet. This close to the Fold, even Grisha were superstitious. The narrow lanes between tents were clear, most of the torches put out as Alina stalked her way back through the camp. Memory and moonlight guided her; she could only assume that her guard had something similar going for him, because he didn't seem to have any problem following her.

"Say it," she said shortly. Something alien pricked at her as soon as the words left her mouth. Mal's rasp of a voice echoed in the back of her mind.  _The way you treat him doesn't hurt_ _ **my**_ _feelings._

Guilt. The alien thing was guilt, and it went bitter all the way down.

"...I can tell there's something you want to say," she amended, doing her best to keep her tone even. She didn't look back at Erik. "You can speak freely."

"He isn't worth the time you gave to him, Miss." The response was immediate. "And if you ever want that reprimand carried out, just say the word. The world won't look twice at another First Army soldier without teeth."

Alina snorted. The night air tugged at each exposed bit of skin, but her internal temperature ran high enough to fend off the chill. She wrapped her arms around herself anyway. It wasn't like anyone but Erik could see, and maybe even he was blind to it.

"I appreciate the thought," she said, completely honest. For some reason it was getting to her, the fact that she could count on one hand the amount of people who would knock someone's teeth out because her feelings had been hurt. She'd probably still have a thumb left over, come to think of it. "It's not necessary. It was a conversation, it went badly, it's done. If you reprimanded everyone who thought I was a bitch, I'd lose you eventually."

That, she decided, would be unacceptable.

"If anyone ever calls you that," Erik said softly, "I might not be able to stop my knife. And I might not be able to miss, either."

A warmth suffused her that had nothing to do with her power. Or at least, not the kind that came from the Small Science. Alina spared a brief second to the universe, closing her eyes in quiet relief.

"I'll keep it in mind. And, Erik?"

"Yes, Miss?"

"If you could keep this whole thing between us, I'd appreciate it. If anyone asks, just tell them my conversation with the Darkling put me on edge. I needed some fresh air."

"Of course, Miss."

It was believable, that was for sure. It wasn't even wrong.

Maybe if she focussed on her troubles with the Darkling, the sour taste in the back of her throat would disappear. The half-hidden face would dissipate into complete nothingness. The voice would be gone.

_You people._

Alina gritted her teeth, shoving her way back into her tent without greeting the  _oprichnik_  standing guard there. She'd apologise in the morning. Maybe. If she felt like it.

_Disgusted, maybe._

"You know what, Malyen Oretsev?" she hissed at her pillow, low enough to not be overheard. "You're just another soldier. And you'll go into the Fold like the rest of them, and if I'm very, very lucky, you'll get eaten by a volcra, and I'll never have to see you again."

The pillow didn't respond.

 

**ii.**

"I'm going into the Fold."

Alina was hyper-aware of the Darkling's gaze on her as she paced back and forth in front of him. She'd cleared the tent - his - of all hangers-on and sycophants (and, okay, maybe a few people who had every right to be there), but he hadn't moved from his elevated seat.

It wasn't a throne. For a man like the Darkling, it didn't need to be. He sprawled in the thing with a lazy ease that would have suggested incompetence in any other person. From him, it dripped confidence.

He'd adopted the pose in inches as the room cleared, shifting from engaged commander to mildly curious overlord.

Alina wondered if he'd known what she was going to say, or if it was just instinct at this point. He always knew the best way to make her feel small.

"No."

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. When the skiffs go into the Fold, I'm going to accompany them."

"No."

She clenched her jaw, ceased her pacing. The fact that he was slightly above her meant nothing. She was powerful in her own right, and his head being a foot above hers didn't change that.

His face was impassive as he regarded her. Alina struggled to return the sentiment, but it was hopeless before she even started. Every frustration, every worry and concern had crawled out of her heart and etched itself onto her features. He saw it all. Of course he did.

"We always end up back here," she said finally. "Equal until I do something that you don't want me to."

"I don't need to explain to you why it's a bad idea. You know why you can't."

"It's not like they don't know I'm here! What's it going to look like, if the volcra attack them with the Sun Summoner right on the edge of the Fold, and I do nothing?"

"The king," the Darkling said, very carefully, "has given his orders."

The Darkling defied the king's orders whenever he judged it necessary. And Alina could see, very clearly, the direct line connecting her presence here with the king's orders, and the Darkling's decision to follow them this time.

If the skiffs were attacked, he would have it said that the Sun Summoner could have saved them, but the king was too afraid of Ravka's enemies. He had held her back, and Ravkans had died for his cowardice. There was a risk, of course, that people would blame her anyway, but the backlash would be hers. Not the Darkling's.

It was a good plan. She was, begrudgingly, impressed. And if she had figured it out forty-eight hours before, she probably would have been on board. Collateral damage, no matter how unfortunate, was occasionally necessary. All Grisha were taught to think in terms of the big picture, and Alina more than most.

The big picture had never included Malyen Oretsev before. He had always been set off to the side, a separate thing for Alina alone. The idea of him actually existing in the world - of being more than just an  _idea_  - was new. She hated it.

"You made the decision to come here. There will always be a place for you at my side, but I will not lead you to it by the hand." He sighed, letting his hand drop away from where his chin had been resting on it. His whole body shifted again, straightening. "I don't control you. If you really wanted to go into the Fold, I wouldn't stop you. I tell you no so that you can have someone to blame if things go wrong. But consider, Alina, if I stayed silent. Would you really risk-"

"No." The word snapped in the air between them like a piece of ice. "I'm not rehashing this conversation again. I wouldn't risk Ravka. But sooner or later, this tune has to change. I can't live like this. Orders, politics, a leash, a chain, they're all the same thing choking me and holding me back. So far that hasn't meant sacrificing much, but we're going to hit a tipping point one day. How many Ravkans are going to die before I can be let loose?"

"Do you think I don't chafe? You're seventeen, and this is your first king. Believe me, I understand."

"Right. Because you're so much older and wiser than - you know what? Is the age difference really something you want to be bringing up right now?"

He looked startled at that, his impassive mask abruptly shattered. They stared at each other for a second, before a quiet giggle bubbled its way up out of Alina's throat.

"You look like I just slapped you."

"That might have been less surprising."

"How is it surprising? You act the way you have been, you bring up my age specifically to point out how young I am and how old you are-"

He leaned forward. It was thrilling and irritating at the same time. She wasn't one of his underlings, to be drawn in by the promise of being the sole focus of his attention. She could manage  _that_ whenever she wanted.

"And how have I been acting, Alina?"

Sometimes, he said her name like a normal human being, and everything was fine. And then sometimes, like now, the way he lingered over the syllables was obscene.  _Don't react. Do no react._

"Like this. Exactly like this."

The way his mouth curved around the smile was worse than the way he said her name. It took a second or two for Alina to realise she was holding her breath, and a third second for her to release it without making it obvious.

"Never mind." She tried to say it firmly, like she wasn't capitulating. "Call your people back in. I need - I'm going to get some fresh air."

At least she wasn't thinking about Mal anymore.

 

**iii.**

They all looked terrified.

Not in the same way, of course. Brash grins stretched mouths to near splitting, and too-loud laughter sounded in the still air outside the Fold. Some were quieter. Some argued. Some stared out at the mass of nothingness before them and let horror eat up their faces.

Alina could feel the fear from all of them, a silent vibration threading the empty spaces between her and them. But the closer they got to her, the more it settled. In the light of day, she hadn't bothered with neutral. And she wasn't going to go back to black. She didn't think her ego could stomach it.

The sour taste was back in her mouth at the sight of all these people looking at the Sun Summoner, and relaxing. Feeling safe. Comforted. This, she supposed, was the danger of sainthood the Darkling had spoken about in his letter. Alina had made no promises, but she could already feel them breaking.

Mal boarded one of the skiffs. There had to be dozens of brunettes amongst the clusters of soldiers, but she managed to find him anyway.

It was shocking, in the light of day, just how handsome he had turned out to be. Alina tried desperately to corral her mind into focussing on literally anything else, but it was difficult not to notice. It wasn't that he had been an  _ugly_  eight year old. Just that, at eight years old, tired and miserable, Alina hadn't really been focussing on how attractive anyone was. Over the years, the memory of her childhood friend had faded, leaving her only the bright blue of his eyes against a blur of a face.

It was definitely not a blur now.  _Stop it. Stop thinking about it_. He was somehow the exact opposite of the Darkling, while still being just as attractive. Stocky versus lithe, sun-bronzed skin and those damn eyes against the Darkling's pale-

_Saints, Alina, you're a professional. Act like it!_

All at once, she realised that her stare was being matched. Mal, who had definitely not been looking her way when she had taken her little trip to Inappropriateland, had shifted his gaze to meet hers. He held it for a second, like he was make sure she knew he knew she'd been looking. And then he  _smirked_ , the arrogant bastard, before turning back to the giant bear of a boy who had been restraining him the other day.

Alina judged the distance between them. It would be so easy to immolate him right now. A moment of effort, and he would be burnt to a crisp on the spot. Her reputation would be in shreds, but it might just be worth it.

"Do you need to be restrained?"

It took every inch of self-control for Alina not to jump. No one else seemed to have the same problem, however. The Darkling was standing right behind her, but the glances people threw her way remained slightly relieved.

"One of these days you're going to have to teach me how to do that," she murmured under her breath. She could feel him, the warm breath brushing her neck, the rub of  _kefta_ on  _kefta_. If she turned, she was sure she'd see him there, just as she was equally sure he remained in his tent with his flunkies.

"Is that so?"

"Unless you want me trying to figure it out on my own."

"I didn't know you had cause to visit me secretly, Alina."

The temptation to elbow him in the ribs was overwhelming. But her guard was already glancing at her a little too often for her liking. The last thing she needed was for the people who were supposed to protect her thinking her mad.

"Maybe it's not you I want to visit."

A pause. Alina smiled to herself.

"I had no idea you were so busy."

Smile gone. "Implying I have too many men on my hands is not the best way to get on my good side."

"Did I have to try?"

 _Close your eyes. Count to ten_. She made it to five. "Do we have different definitions of the word challenge?"

The soft gust of his laughter tickled the nape of her neck. Alina kept her eyes locked forward, deliberately seeking out someone not-Mal to rest them on as the skiffs pushed off.

Whenever she entered the Fold on her own, it always seemed like it took forever for the darkness to swallow her. Watching the skiffs with their fragile, fragile cargo, it was instantaneous. The shadows wrapped around the vessels, and then they were gone.

"Whenever I think I have the measure of you," he remarked softly, "you always manage to surprise me."

"If you want someone to bend over backwards for you, go and find Zoya."

That quiet laugh was going to be the death of her. "What makes you think I haven't?"

 _In and out. In, and out again._ "I've changed my mind. I don't want to learn how to do this, I want to learn how to make you stop."

"Please is always a good place to start."

She was going to die. He was going to kill her.

"Don't you have people to terrorise?"

"Terror is easy. If my mind is on you anyway, I may as well make you aware of it."

"Well, you succeeded." She stared a little more intently at the Fold, as though she could make shapes from the shadows. "I am aware."

Slowly, the crowd that had gathered to see the soldiers off dissipated. If the skiffs ran into trouble now, no one would be running in to help. If they had ever planned to do so in the first place.

"If I were you, I would order my men to drag me back in the case of an incident."

"You aren't me."

"The people love a show. If you stand here and listen to the screams of the dying, they will see a cruel saint. If they see a seventeen year old girl being dragged off by strong-"

"I really don't need it explained to me."

It was his turn to fall silent. She held her breath, and hated herself for it.

"Don't do anything stupid, Alina."

As if on cue, the screaming sounded.

It was so well-timed, she had to wonder for a second if she had imagined it. But no - there it came again, joined by a cacophony of bellowed orders and general shouting. If she strained her ears, she could almost hear the sound of distantly beating wings.

Half the people on the docks turned to stare in horror at the unrelenting blackness of the Shadowfold. The rest of them looked at her.

"Alina."

 _What did I just say?_  echoed in the Darkling's tone. She didn't care, her whole body moving forward without thought. Only purpose. She told herself that it was because of the soldiers and Grisha, trapped without light or escape. All those people, how could she do anything different, the excuses were all there right there for her to grasp.

But there was only one face in her mind's eye, and all the voices screaming were Mal. That awful, heavy thing from the night before plonked itself down in the middle of her chest. She lurched towards the Fold, one hand already outstretched and glowing.

She had carried the story of Malyen Oretsev around with her for nine years. She would be damned if she let it end with him telling her he was  _disgusted._

"Stay here," she instructed Natalya and Pavel, who had both started running alongside her. "This is what I was made for. You'll only distract me."

" _Alina._ "

"You should have come in person, Darkling," she said, picking up the pace. "You and the king and Fjerda are just going to have to deal with the fact that the Sun Summoner exists."

It was with a deep sense of satisfaction that she noted both of her guards staying behind as she plunged into the Fold.

 

**iv.**

A ragged cheer followed her in, but it was soon swallowed by the fervent sounds of battle. She briefly thanked her past self for having the sense to wear practical shoes instead of something more decorative - getting anywhere in the thick grey sands was hard enough.

She should have demanded a skiff, but the chances of anyone being willing to man it were slim to none, and the chances of the Darkling reaching her before she had the chance to cast off were high. So she slogged across the shifting terrain, step by step, following the noise of people dying.

It occurred to her that she had never seen a volcra before. The eerie flap of wings was familiar, but none had ever dared come close to her on the few times she had crossed the Fold before. None dared come close now. It took her a moment or two to realise that her whole body was glowing.

The temptation to extend that glow tingled at the tips of her fingers. She could do it. She could reach out to the sun beyond the height of the Fold and drag it down into the depths, create a lifeline from her to wherever the skiffs had ended up. But the part of her that had been trained by the Darkling, that had been taught to think in terms of numbers and cost and weighing the world up wouldn't let her.

She couldn't destroy the fabric of the Fold. And if, when this was all over and whatever happened happened, Fjerda or Shu Han or any one of Ravka's numerous enemies knew that? It was information they could use against Ravka, to tear her down or build themselves up. If she was going to do this stupid thing, the extent of her power had to be kept a secret.

And it was stupid. It was  _so_  stupid. Mal was probably already dead, and the heavy thing in her chest thrashed in agony at the thought. He couldn't die. She had to prove him wrong. Whatever bullshit she'd spouted about closure the night before, the panic creeping through her was making it abundantly clear that it had been just that - bullshit.

She didn't know what to do with this handsome boy who smirked and displayed nothing but aggression towards her. But the chubby eight year old who was afraid of the dark, who had made her first year alone in the world a little less like hell?

Saints, she owed him at least this much.

"Holy shit, what the fuck is that?"

The shout was laced with terror. Everything before her was drenched in it, from the hoarse cries to the sputtering flames of Grisha pushed to their limits.  _Probably dead,_ Alina's brain chanted. _Probably dead probably dead probably dead._

"Demon! It's a demon!"

She couldn't help scowling at that. Someone hadn't been paying attention to their religious education. Planting her feet in the sand, she clapped her hands together. A low  _boom_ echoed across the void. Slowly, the Sun Summoner drew her hands apart again. And as the light stretched and danced between her fingertips, streaming towards the beleaguered skiffs, she heard it. A desperate and lonely cry building into a shout, voice after voice feeding into it until it was a roar of sound.

_Alina, Alina. Sankta Alina._

The volcra scattered before her power, their screeches fading against the wave of noise cresting in the skiffs. A few of the bigger ones tried to drag their prey with them, but the men and women had rallied, and the volcra paid dearly for every extra life they tried to take.

Alina laughed, spreading her arms wider, pushing her light higher into the Fold. The sight of the shadows creeping back inch by inch was intoxicating, and she felt the rush of her power and the joy of using it expand in her gut until she thought she might explode from it. The final gasps of battle dimmed to nothing in her ears as she tipped her backwards and watched bright fingers grasp at nothing.

Except - not nothing. A volcra struggled at the edge between light and dark, accelerating into the shadows only to be dragged back by the weight of its cargo.

A person. A boy. A brown-haired boy, hooked by the shoulder and yelling bloody murder at the monster trying to carry him off. He had a knife in his free arm, and there was some skill in the way he was swinging it, but the angle was all wrong. There was no chance he'd win his freedom. No chance at all.

Alina's light flickered at the edges, prompting calls of concern from the people on the skiffs. She didn't care; she barely heard them.

"Mal?" The name tripped over her lips before she could think about it. "Mal!"

The boy's head jerked towards her. The earth lurched under her feet. It was him, oh Saints, it was him, and she couldn't hold the light and immolate the volcra at the same time, not without killing Mal as well.

 _It would be a kind death_ , a voice in the back of her mind whispered. It sounded suspiciously like the Darkling.  _Kinder than the one due him now._

"Alina!" The rasp in Mal's voice was etched with pain, and something else. Something worse. "I'm sorry."

The light blinked out. There was a startled silence from man and monster alike, before the fear entered it, and then the screams. The Sun Summoner didn't care. She didn't think. She didn't breathe. Every miniscule part of the universe that made up Alina Starkov was focused on the part of the void most likely to hold the volcra absconding with a single brown-haired boy.

There were dozens in the army. Thousands in Ravka. But that one was hers.

Her arm swung down, and the world split in two.

 

**v.**

He hit a sail. All the luck in existence must have coalesced into that moment, because if he had hit the skiffs or the ground-

Alina didn't want to think about it.

 

**vi.**

There were no Healers on board the skiffs. Missions through the Fold were considered too dangerous to risk them.

There were a lot of bandages. It still wasn't enough.

Mal wouldn't stop bleeding.

"Are you always this hard to look at?" he croaked.

They'd laid the wounded out in a row. The screaming had mostly stopped now, although every now and then a sharp shriek would split the air, making people glance around nervously. The _Inferni_  were cauterising the wounded, those who had missed out on bandages, or who were bleeding through them.

"Yes," she said frankly. Her body was glowing again; it was easier to maintain than anything more focussed. In that moment, actually, it was impossible to suppressed. She was suffused with power, energy, and it was all she could do to focus on the conversation. "But you should see me when I really make an effort."

He snorted. The sound was wet. She'd cut his shirt away from the mess that was his shoulder, tugged off her  _kefta_  and pressed the heavy weight of it against the wound. Red and gold usually went so well together. She would burn it once this was over, she decided.

"I promise I'd come for you." His voice was faint, skin waxy and pale, but his eyes remained startlingly clear as they roved over her face. She wondered what he saw. "I didn't forget."

She laughed, and the sound was just as wet. "I don't know if you noticed, but I think I came for you."

A grin cracked his mouth. "Yeah, well. You always were contrary."

"Ali - Sun Summoner." A nervous voice behind her caught her attention. She turned distractedly, spotting an  _Inferni_  that she vaguely recognised as someone who had graduated the year before. The fact that she couldn't remember her name spoke for how powerful they were. "The soldiers - some of them are asking for the saint. For you."

Something spasmed over Mal's face, stealing the grin away. Alina mourned the loss, even as the greater part of her mind turned to that new problem. Absently, she brushed his hair back of his forehead.

"I have to go be the Sun Summoner," she told him. "If you die while I'm gone, I won't forgive you."

"What happened...to closure?"

"It can bite me."

**vii.**

She asked the  _Inferni_  why they were cauterising the wounded. In the grand scheme of things, they hadn't made it that far away from the docks. There might not be Healers on board the skiffs, but there were some back at camp.

"Doesn't the risk of infection outweigh any potential benefits? Unless they're all bleeding to death here and now."

The woman eyed her like she wasn't quite sure if she was being serious or not. "There are a lot of wounded, Sun Summoner. And there's a...hierarchy, to that sort of thing. Some of those men will be lucky if they get a Healer to even look at them, it doesn't matter what their wound is."

"...Right. Of course." Alina drew her Saint Face on, sombre and as kind as she could manage. "Then let me help. It'll be cleaner if I do it."

The soldiers murmured prayers and thanks, hands reaching out to brush her calves, her boots, whatever else they could touch as she passed.  _Sankta_ , they whispered, breathed. One cried it. _Sankta, sankta._

Minutes felt like hours. When the skiffs finally bumped up against the docks, it felt as though a lifetime had passed. There were things to do, music to be face, a craving in Alina that she needed to satisfy, but the first thing she did upon stepping out into the true light of day was find a Healer.

"Malyen Oretsev. You'll see to him first, I don't care if there's a dying general on those things. Do you understand me?"

" _Da, moi soverenyi_."

Alina blinked. But the man was gone before she could correct his address. After a moment of thought, she decided that she didn't really want to.

"Follow him," she said to Pavel. The man and Natalya both had rejoined her the second she'd returned, which was both a surprise, and a warning. She'd half expected the Darkling to eviscerate them. He had to have something else planned. "Just to make sure."

 

**viii.**

"What were you  _thinking_?"

She just about burned the hand that grabbed her shoulder to a crisp. Natalya cursed and the slither of steel slid through the air, only to be cut off by the unmistakable choke of someone under attack from a Heartrender.

Alina reacted on instinct. Her skin heated, Ivan swore, and she took advantage of his distraction to twist out from his grip and bodily throw him, away from both herself and her guard.

"I'm supposed to be doing the guarding here, Sun Summoner," Natalya muttered, regaining her breath in slow and even gasps.

"Force of habit," Alina apologised. Ivan had gained his feet easily; she raised an eyebrow at him as he started forward, like he was going to respond in kind. "And  _you're_  lucky you're not worse off. I told you to stay away from my guards."

He snarled at her. "Should I bark too, Alina?"

"If you want."

She watched him chew on that for a moment. Maybe it was cruel, but she honestly didn't have time for Ivan right then. She was coated in blood and stank of cooked meat, and she had played at being both saint and human while on the Fold. It had consumed her there, but the immediacy that had charged through her veins was fading now, leaving her with the consequences of her actions.

And something else. Something new. Something that fluttered against her rib cage and tingled in her fingertips, something that was neither saint nor human, but  _Grisha_.

There was only one man she wanted to share that with, and it wasn't this one.

"Do you have any idea what you're done?" Ivan demanded. "What you might have unleashed? Damnit, Alina, you're supposed to think like a leader, not some heartsick teenage girl worried about a few  _otkazat'sya_."

For a moment, she just looked at him. The worst part, she supposed, was that he was right.

The best part was that she didn't care. She turned on her heel, and left him there. When he moved to come after her, that slither of steel sounded again.

"I can throw before you crush my heart, if you come a step further," Natalya said. "Unless she tells me not to. I won't miss."

Alina didn't tell her not to. Ivan stayed where he was.

 

**ix.**

The  _oprichnik_  guarding her tent did not warn her the same way Olga had the night before. Alina made careful note of that, and then pushed the tent flap open.

He leaned back on her travel stool, with all the presence and power he'd had on his elevated seat. Unlike then, however, the lines of his body were tight. She could see rage written into every one of them, as she traced the shape of him up from his boots to his face.

"You didn't think I would do it."

"I gave you more credit than I should have, it seems."

And she laughed. Laughed, because she was just a single, solitary girl who might have just sparked a war. Laughed, because hadn't Ravka been at war for a century anyway? Laughed, because she had just walked into a horror and defeated it single-handedly. Because she had saved a brown-haired boy who might not hate her as it had first seemed.

Because she had done it by cutting a monster out of the air with a wave of her hand, and now that the terror of that moment had passed, she was left with the sheer  _joy_ of that. Her power pulsed in her veins with every beat of her heart. She had tamed it to lie beneath her skin again, but she knew he saw it there.

She  _was_  power. And he wanted it, oh; he wanted it. Alina stood in front of the most powerful man in Ravka, placed her hands deliberately on the travel desk on either side of him, and leaned in. Up close, she could see his every perfection. He was a man carved, not born, the sharp angles of his face blending smoothly into each other beneath the pale expanse of his skin, the dark frame of his hair stark against it.

He was her match.

"You were right," she breathed. "I had to need it."

It took him less than a second to make the connection. She watched it flash behind the ice of his eyes, shunting his anger at her to the side. Something darker took its place, and infinitely hotter.

Saints, but today was a day for heat.

"This is not the moment, Alina," he said, and she had to smirk at his effort at keeping his voice even. He managed it, of course he did, but it was an  _effort_. She could read it in every inch of him. "You know as well as I do that there are things we have to see to. We have to return to Os Alta, for one."

They did. She knew that. She knew the litany of consequences and possibilities. She knew that the king would be angry.

She knew the Darkling wanted to kiss her. And she knew neither of them were going to leave this tent until it happened.

"Come on." Her smirk lingered, her edges a breath away from bleeding into his. "It's not every day that a girl learns the Cut."

She could have done it herself. Could have thrown herself at him and been met measure for measure. She knew them both well enough to know that he wouldn't reject her, that whatever game they were playing these days was going to reach an inevitable peak.

But she wanted it this way. She wanted him to break first.

He did.

It happened in the space between seconds. His breath shuddered out against her, and then his mouth was on hers, all-consuming. He kissed her in pieces; here, the corner of her mouth; here, her lips; here, drawing the bottom one lightly between his teeth before he returned to her completely.

"You are going to be the death of me," he growled, and for all the desire in his voice, that simmering rage was there beneath the surface as well. He had one hand knotted in her hair, cradling the back of her head. The other was at her waist, and it was only her teasing resistance that stopped him for pulling her into his lap.

Alina laughed into his mouth, curling one fist in his  _kefta_. She'd gotten blood on it. "Good."

She dragged him up to his feet. He followed, willing.


	23. Chapter 23

**i.**

The rise and fall of his chest was surprisingly soothing.

Alina traced the lines of his torso with her eyes, the shift and play of muscles under taut skin. It was tempting to reach out and touch, to make sure he was really there, but she kept her hands knotted loosely in her lap.

She wasn't really sure what to do with herself.

"Am I making you nervous?" He hadn't opened his eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. It was a little horrifying to hear a quiet voice in the back of her mind whisper,  _yes_.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. "I'm making you nervous."

"I'm the Sun Summoner. I don't get nervous, I get annoyed and burn  _ot_ \- little soldier boys like you to a crisp."

Mal moved to push himself up onto his elbows, but his injured arm gave out under him. "I object," he said, "to the little part."

Alina rolled her eyes. "But you're fine with being burnt to a crisp?"

He rolled onto his side, and she realised he was trying to find a better way to face her. Angry red marks radiated from under his bandages. Having seen the mess that had been made of his shoulder yesterday, she was impressed with the Healer's work. He'd probably bear the scars for the rest of his life, but considering that he'd just about lost the arm, Alina figured that was a small price to pay.

There was another, older scar bisecting his chest. A part of her wanted to ask about it, but another, bigger part of her didn't want to admit that she had been dragging her eyes over his body. She had enough problems with men without adding this boy into the mix.

"Do you do that a lot?" Whatever humour had been in his voice before had faded, and the blue of his eyes was hard in a way she didn't quite understand. "Set people on fire?"

Alina thought of bandits, and of enemy soldiers lured into the trap for the sole purpose of testing her. "Not a lot."

"But you do it?"

"You're a soldier. Are you telling me you don't kill people?"

His eyes broke away from hers. She swallowed a sigh of relief, and had to fight the urge to leave. The same thought she'd had before the Fold stuck with her now; she didn't know what to do with a Malyen Oretsev that existed in the real world. With a boy had known her when she was small and weak and tired and without the Darkling to-

Alina cut that thought off. She wouldn't think about the Darkling around Mal. They were two threads of her life that she wanted to keep very, very separate.

"I haven't," he said shortly. "I'm trained, obviously. Never needed to use it."

"You'll be fine. When you have to. Unless you're planning on killing small children or the elderly, I don't know that I could reassure you about that."

"I wouldn't want you to," he snapped. Alina blinked, taken aback by the disgust in his tone, unable to tell what it was directed at. "Saints, Alina, is that what you tell yourself at night? At least I haven't murdered small children?"

"I don't tell myself anything at night," she said slowly. "I haven't murdered anyone. Everyone I've killed has been in the defence of Ravka."

She felt strangely detached as she watched him struggle with that, the distaste twisting his mouth. It was safer, she realised, to take a mental step back. Something in her chest ached, but right at that moment, she refused to feel it.

Apparently, so did Mal. He gave up on whatever he was trying to say, flopping onto his back again. The openness of his face had taken her by surprise; it was almost a relief to have him looking somewhere else, staring up at the canvas overhead.

Alina wondered if the easy silences she remembered from childhood were real, or if her brain was just filling in gaps with kindness. Either way, there was nothing easy or kind about the quiet now. She considered leaving, decided she wasn't going to let him drive her out. She was the Sun Summoner, after all. She left on her terms, or not at all.

"Are you happy?" she said finally. "Being a soldier? Is this what you want from your life?"

One incredulous eye rolled towards her and appeared to gauge how serious she was. Apparently realising it was a genuine question, a huff of laughter squeezed out of the boy's battered chest.

"Yeah, it's a laugh. Not really a lifelong passion though, you know? I was thinking of retiring early, taking up life on the run, or maybe as a beggar. Go on a trip to the hangman's noose for treason. Or hell, maybe I'd get lucky and run into you on the road. Over in an instant, right?"

"Saints." She was on her feet before she could stop herself, a tactical error. She never should have let him get to her. "If I'd known you were so sensitive, I would have let you nap a while longer."

"Right, because  _that's_  a mature response. What did you expect me to say? 'Yes ma'am, it's my dream to be cannon fodder'? 'I love having shitty training and shitty gear and shitty commanders sending us into shitty situations, I am living the dream'."

"You know what, never mind. I can't open my mouth around you without you jumping down my throat. What do you want from me, Mal? I'm what I was made to be, just like you are."

It seemed like a suitable moment to end on, with all the defining features of a successful last word. She turned her back on him, told herself she wasn't holding out for the sound of his voice before she left.

That didn't stop the relief from rushing through her when he spoke.

"Alina, wait."

She paused, one hand on the tent flap.

"No one made me into anything."

It startled a laugh out of her, something she probably should have kept to herself. Alina could just imagine the way he would bristle, how he was surely assuming the worst of her.

Let him.

"We're all forged by something, Mal. Real freedom is in knowing what it was."

 

**ii.**

"I want more information." Overhead, the sun glared mercilessly down on the world, but the bite in the air was cold. Alina resisted the urge to pull her  _kefta_  more tightly around herself. "Every scrap you can find out, I want to know it all."

"Of course, Miss Alina." Erik was careful to keep any disapproval out of his tone, but that was evidence in and of itself. It was always very clear when he was happy with her choices.

Thankfully, he wasn't paid to be happy with the things she did, and his loyalty didn't depend on that either. Alina listened to his footsteps fall away, staring up at the pale sky.

"Permission to speak freely, Sun Summoner?" Olga's voice was quiet, but held no less steel for it.

"Always."

"You cannot afford to be distracted. We will be returning to Os Alta soon. There will be dangers on the road, and worse once we arrive."

"You think I shouldn't be wasting my time on this?"

"...Not just this."

Well. She had told the woman she could speak freely. She couldn't exactly be mad when she did.

"I'll keep the fact that you think the Darkling is a waste of my time between us," she said dryly.

"My head and neck appreciate it."

 

**iii.**

"You're avoiding me."

Alina resisted the urge to smile. "I'm not," she said, watching charcoal clad servants hoist the last of her belongings onto packhorses. "I just failed to seek you out."

He didn't touch her, but she could feel his presence anyway, watching their people work from behind her left shoulder. She thought about leaning back in to him; the idea was more than appealing, but she resisted that as well. She wouldn't be seen leaning anywhere on him in public.

Naturally, that thought took her brain by the hand and led her to others. Like what she could be doing with him in private. It was somehow thrilling and terrifying all at the same time, and Alina wasn't entirely certain that they weren't the exact same emotion.

She tipped her head back, eyeing him. "Did you really expect me to start hanging on your every word?"

The Darkling looked at her like - Saints, she didn't have a word for it. The rest of the world fell away in the face of him, and not in a good way. Not in a bad way, either. It was like being consumed, and not minding.

"I didn't have any expectations," he murmured. "You...took me by surprise."

She snorted. "Liar."

"You insist on thinking the worst of me."

"You'd be disappointed if I didn't."

He smiled, and she did her best not to think about what it tasted like. "You set the stage for a war, and that's what you fear will disappoint me."

Alina raised her eyebrows, turning until the jet buttons down the front of her  _kefta_ brushed his chest.

"Who said anything about fear?"

She'd tied her hair back with a ribbon without much thought or care. Still, it didn't surprise her, the way he tucked an errant curl back behind her ear.

"You don't fear me, you don't fear war. What does scare you, Alina?"

"If you don't know, you haven't been paying attention."

She gave him her own little smile, just as secret, just as sly. The Darkling's eyes dipped to her mouth, and she didn't care if it was an accident or a carefully calculated move to undo her. He was thinking about kissing her and she loved it.

His hair was in its typical state of elegant dishevelment. Holding his gaze, she pushed a lock of ink-black hair away from his face with the very tips of her fingers. Pulling her hand back, her thumb just barely brushed the corner of his mouth.

"Consider my attention yours," he murmured. They stayed there like that for a moment, before he glanced off to the side. His lips quirked. "Their attention, too."

Alina's gaze skated in the same direction, and it was only careful control of her limbs that stopped her from stepping away from him. Almost everyone in the general area had stopped what they were doing to stare at the two of them.

Including Ivan. The worst part about his expression, she decided, was the fact that he didn't even seem that surprised. Their eyes met and he just stared at her, stone-faced.

Jumping away would only confirm that something untoward was happening, make her look weak and - and  _young_. Alina turned back to the Darkling, setting her hands on her hips.

"By the way," she said. "I'm not returning to Os Alta with you."

 

**iv.**

"Gold suits you, Zoya."

Alina knew there was a malicious edge to her smile. She didn't care. It matched the light in Zoya's eyes as she adjusted the stiff  _kefta_ wrapped around her. If Alina had given her the most elaborate, uncomfortable outfit she had managed to bring along with her, well. They were trying to make a statement, after all.

"Everything suits me," the other girl sniffed. And then she quailed slightly, seeming to shrink for a split second. Alina didn't know what kind of look the Darkling had given the other girl, but it clearly wasn't approval.

"Ravka appreciates your sacrifice," she said sweetly. The expression on Zoya's face said that Alina would speak for Ravka over her dead body, but she said nothing.

The way she inclined her head  _was_  more regal than anything the Queen had done in probably her entire life, though. Alina was almost - almost - impressed.

"Do I need to be worried?" she asked, watching the other girl step into the carriage.

"I didn't realise your relationship with Zoya extended to potential concern." The Darkling lingered at her side, almost like he was reluctant to step away.

Alina thought she could get used to that.

"This world will be a cold and barren rock before anything in it manages to take down Zoya Nazyalensky," she said dryly. There was a reason she'd asked for her specifically to be her stand-in. It had less to do with trying to get under Zoya's skin, and more to do with the fact that she was the only dark-haired girl - one of a few Grisha, period - that Alina felt could even begin to match her, power-wise.

Getting under her skin was more in the nature of an added bonus.

"I was thinking more of a certain comment you made in jest the other day," she continued blithely. Technically she had made the comment, about Zoya and bending over backwards, but he'd followed up on it.

"Ah." The Darkling lifted an eyebrow. "Was it a jest?"

The irritation that gripped her then took her by surprise. She'd expected him to make some sort of charged comment. All of their conversations had been charged lately, even arguments about strategy and planning. She hadn't expected to care.

Jealousy was weakness, but she couldn't seem to stop her mouth from moving anyway. "Going forward, it had better be."

The other eyebrow rose, the Darkling himself otherwise unruffled. Alina abruptly felt every one of her seventeen years, and knew them for how few they were. The effort it took not to blush was excrutiating.

"I'm surprised you think you have the moral high ground to make demands, Alina."

Not for the first time, his gaze flickered away. She didn't have to turn to know he was looking at Ivan. She drew in a single, slow breath, let it out again. Nothing in the Darkling's expression changed, but she could practically feel his amusement.

If they had been in private, she would have leaned in. She'd done it last night, secluded in her tent, temper edging her on as she did her best to convince him her plan was a good one. He had leaned back in spite of the level tone to his voice, the two of them up in each other's faces and arguing until-

Saints, but the man knew how to kiss. Alina would never admit it, but a part of her remained shocked that she'd actually won that argument, that her plan was being carried out right now.

"Morals," she said, forcing her tone as even as possible, "have very little to do with it."

The last she saw of his face before he stepped into the carriage was a slight, smug smile.

 

**v.**

There was something comforting about wearing blue. Alina enjoyed the sensation for approximately five minutes, before she realised it was because of its similarity to black.

_For someone who craves her independence so badly, you certainly do allow him to consume your thoughts._

Not all of the Grisha had returned to Os Alta with the Darkling. The beautiful tents with their silk and lace and perfumes had been packed off, and the remaining Grisha had transferred over to a standing barracks. The tents were nice, but it was getting colder. Four walls and a door were far more appreciable than silk, even if it was gorgeous to look at.

She had requested for a couple of specific Grisha to remain. The Darkling had given her another set of raised eyebrows, but he hadn't said no. So it was that Alina ended up sweeping the halls of the barracks in her blue  _kefta_ , looking for the place Olga had said she would find Ivan.

She hesitated before opening the door, and wasn't that a symbol in and of itself? When they had first started this little fling, she had flung herself into his room whenever she felt like it, without care for what she found behind the door.

If Alina was honest with herself, she still didn't particularly care what she found behind the door. But it was possible that  _Ivan_ might, and that was more of a concern now than it had been before. If he was feeling jilted after her too-close meetings with the Darkling, who knew how he would react?

The possibility existed that she should have ended her dalliance with the Heartrender before goading the Darkling into kissing her. Or, if that was impossible to avoid, potentially before kissing him again. Alina hated that possibility, discounted it the moment the thought entered her mind. Ivan was hers. What she was doing might not have been right by any strict moral standard, but that didn't make him any less hers.

She opened the door.

He lay on his low wooden bed, arms behind his head, boots crossed one over the other. His head didn't move when the door creaked, or when she stepped into the room. She shut it quietly behind her, and he kept his gaze firmly on the ceiling.

"This is it, then?" he asked it.

Alina took her fill of the sight of him. He lacked...presence. The thing that made heads turn and conversations stop. Oh, sure, he had  _power_ , and she would appreciate that any day of the week.

But he wasn't the Darkling. And that, she supposed, was always going to be his downfall.

"That depends on you," she said finally, leaning against the door. Her hands pressed flat to the wood, feeling the grain under her fingers. It was cool to the touch. "I've been happy with what we've had so far. Haven't you?"

He shoved himself up with the speed and ease that came from being either a highly trained dancer, or killer. Alina stayed where she was. "That was before I knew I wouldn't be the only one _having_  it with you."

"You mean the Darkling?" She raised her eyebrows. "Ivan, what makes you think that there's anything about the two of us that is even remotely similar to my relationship with the Darkling."

His mouth curled. It was an ugly expression, but that sort of thing had never done anything to take away the handsomeness of him. She wondered what it was that drew her to men who wore cruelty so well.

"Tell me you're not involved with him."

"I will be involved with him until the day I die." She pushed off the doorway. Her feet fell softly on the wooden floors, but the tension in his body wound tighter anyway, with each step she took. "Which will be long after they put you in the ground. He's the Darkling. I'm the Sun Summoner. What am I supposed to do, pretend like there's no connection there?"

"You're  _supposed_ -" He cut himself off with a glare, no doubt recognising the dangerous waters using that word would throw him into. Alina had asked the question, but she would by no means accept Ivan telling her what she was and was not supposed to do. Ever. "You're saying that I should have expected this, then? That I should just accept that you're not mine alone, and you never will be?"

"You could be the last man on earth, and I still wouldn't be yours." She cupped his cheek, tilted his face up to hers. Was she supposed to feel empathy at the agony on his face? She didn't. Something else entirely stirred in the pit of her stomach, something not at all unpleasant. "This is partially my fault. We should have spoken about this before. But, Ivan - speaking about any part of us has never really been something that we've done. Can you really blame me, for leaving it so long?"

He wanted to. She could see it in his eyes, in the way they bore into her. It was enough to make her feel uncomfortable, so she did the only thing she could think of in the circumstances to make it go away. Her lips brushed his as he leaned into him, settled a knee on either side of him, made herself gentle against the hard lines of him. The hand on his cheek curled back into his hair, her other arm draped loosely over his shoulder, cradling her to him.

She didn't kiss him. She breathed him, watching the blame in his eyes flare and then fade into nothing. Something darker replaced it. She revelled in it.

"You're going to be the death of me," he growled. But he lifted his own hands to her hips, without any prompting from her.

Alina smiled. "If you want me to go, I will. If you want me to walk away from you, I'll leave right now.

His fingers tightened around her. For the first time, Alina whole-heartedly approved of the response.

"But if I stay," she continued, shifting even closer. Her forehead pressed against his, legs dragging over his thighs, "you have to know that I'm not yours. You mean a lot to me, Ivan. But I won't ever let you be everything."

He didn't say anything. She wondered if his ego just couldn't take it, but then his hands were shifting on her waist and his mouth on hers was a harsh and biting thing that she only wanted more of. It tasted like victory.

She planted her hands on his shoulders, and pushed him back onto the bed.

 

**vi.**

"He's considered charming, but strange." Erik's voice was a low undertone as Alina strode towards the stark blackness of the fade. Ivan and Fedyor followed at a distance, accompanied by another half dozen Grisha of varying colours. "It's known he's an orphan. He doesn't seem to care."

That was unusual in and of itself. Settled as she was now, Alina doubted she'd care if anyone knew she was an orphan. But Mal hadn't struck her as especially settled.

"Skill-wise, he's an excellent soldier. But he isn't considered to have the temperament to take orders. Even if he did, it's likely he would still be a tracker over a regular. No one said the word magic to my face, obviously, but the general feeling is that there's  _something_  preternatural to his abilities. No one can put their finger on exactly what it is, though."

"No such thing as a tracking Grisha," she muttered distractedly. She'd asked the First Army for some aid in that department, and she had a sinking feeling about just which brown-haired boy was standing - or leaning - at the dry-docks.

"And he - ah, he hates Grisha, miss."

That, Alina decided, was too unsurprising to be hurtful.

"He'll get over it.," she said. "Anything else?"

"He has two companions, Mikhael and Dubrov. One of the girls is interested in him, Ruby. He flirts, but rarely does anything about it. He has, on occasion, woken his fellows up with night terrors."

Something stirred in the back of Alina's mind as her party swept closer to the docks. Yes, it was definitely Malyen Oretsev standing there, propped up against the big redhead who had held him back from committing suicide via carriage the other day. "He's afraid of the dark. Or, he was." She nodded. "Which one is that? Mikhael or Dubrov?"

"Mikhael, Miss."

She nodded. "Thank you, Erik. Keep me up to date, please." They drew in close to the boys, and she lifted her voice. "You should be in bed!"

"Something put the fear of God into my unit leader!" Mal called back. "A tracker was needed, and I'm the best. But I'll gladly go back to bed if your Holiness will allow it. I'm feeling a nap coming on."

Behind her, Ivan started forward. She placed a light hand on his forearm; it was more than enough to hold him back.

Mal sneered.

"I'd wipe that look off your face before my friend here does it for you," she advised.

Blue eyes flickered to the place where her fingers brushed Ivan's  _kefta_. "And I'll know who to blame if he does. Doesn't look like he's going anywhere without your say so."

Erik leaned into her slightly. "He also has a severely undeveloped sense of fear."

"So I'm noticing."

Mikhael looked sort of like he wanted to push Mal off the dry-docks to make him shut up. Alina could relate. She smiled at the giant boy, which only seemed to terrify him, before giving her attention back to Mal.

"Are you up to going into the Fold again? If you're not, I can send for another tracker. I don't need the best, just someone who can find me what I want."

He crossed his arms over his chest. It was a gesture that might have held more power, had he not had to hide a wince partway through it. She could see the white of bandages poking out from under his shirt collar.

"I'm up for whatever you decide to throw at me."

Ivan's forearm twitched. Alina gave him a flat glance over her shoulder. It didn't have much effect on his black expression, but he stayed where he was.

"Good," she said to Mal. "Then find me the volcra nest."

 

**vii.**

She had received word from the Darkling. Fjerda was mobilising. Shu Han, for whatever reason, was  _not_ , but they weren't looking a gift horse too closely in the mouth for the time being. The border would remained armed, of course - no one in Ravka was  _that_  optimistic - but for the time being the focus would be on the north.

Alina imagined, sometimes, what the king's face must have looked like when he realised Ravka would be facing an army that spring, not just raiding parties. It helped her sleep at night. Of course, there was always the chance of diplomatic intervention, but the Darkling and Alina had decided it would be best to proceed - realistically, she thought - as though that would fail.

Which meant Ravka would need supplies. Mal's words had lingered with her alongside her irritation. She liked to think that she would have come up with this plan without his little outburst, but that didn't make the bitter laughter in her mind dissipate at all.

Whatever. She couldn't solve every problem for every soldier, but she could do this. She followed Mal into the Fold, to the site of the attack only a few weeks ago now. She watched him through the haze of her light, the way he picked up on things she hadn't even seen, and was half-convinced weren't there.

Maybe they weren't. But whatever trail he was following, it was the correct one. It took the better part of a day to find the nest, stretching out over the grey sands before them, but Saints only knew how long it would have taken.

The darkness clung with inky fingers as she called on the sun, reluctant to retreat in the face of her power.  _One day_ , she thought at it, ignoring the way it felt like the Darkling.  _One day, I will be the end of you._

The volcra screamed as they burned. Ivan's face lit up in pride; she felt such an abrupt rush of  _want_  for him, it nearly left her breathless.

"They sound like people," a sick voice whispered next to her. Mal's face was lit up too, but there was nothing of pride in it. No pleasure, not even hope. She turned away from Ivan, frowning at him.

"They aren't," she pointed out. "They're monsters."

He pointed at a winged silhouette, huddling over something as it wailed. "These monsters have children."

Alina surveyed her work as the screams intensified. "Close your eyes," she called to the rest of the group.

Her light blazed, a sheet of lightning rippling through the Fold.

The screaming stopped.

"You won't get all of them," Mal said when it was over. "That was the main breeding ground, but there are others. This is just temporary."

"Then I'll come back and do it again until I find a permanent solution," she sighed. "Do you ever have anything positive to say? Or is it just me who brings out the jerk in you?"

Blue eyes surveyed her for a moment, before he snorted softly. "Mostly? It's just you."

 


	24. Chapter 24

**i.**

The first people to bring weapons through the Fold did not exactly look like patriots.

For a start, some of them weren't even Ravkan. Alina eyed two Shu teenagers who had to be brother and sister, for all that one of them was the size of a house. They had the same air of deadly grace about them.

"Feeling patriotic?"

She ground her teeth. Sturmhond was beginning - no, Sturmhond had started off as a pain. He was beginning to become an irritation. But he was also the first commercial enterprise willing to bring weapons through the Fold as the First Army focussed itself on other preparations.

"One of us has to be," she muttered, tearing her gaze away from the siblings. "You do know we're on the verge of war with Shu Han? How am I supposed to trust that they aren't feeling patriotic while they handle our weapons?"

The rusty haired boy flicked her a grin so insolent, her fingers actually twitched with the urge to strangle him. "One, for the same reason you trust me. You're paying us, aren't you? Two, they aren't our weapons. They're mine. When they're no longer my weapons, they'll be the king's. Three - look at those faces. How could you not trust those faces?"

The siblings gave her identical slow smiles that at least served to convince her - If they turned on everyone, it would be because they were maniacs, not Shu.

"I don't trust you," she said flatly. "You're a pirate."

"Privateer. And, you'll note, currently your best option."

"My best option wouldn't be charging the exorbitant fees you are."

"A man has to eat, Sun Summoner. And outfit his fleet of ships that do things like break blockades and protect Os Kervo from actual pirates. Besides, my fee isn't a patch on yours."

Alina opened her mouth to deny that she even had a fee, when she caught what he'd called her. The look she gave him could have dropped an ox at twenty paces, but he only gave her that grin again.

"Piece of advice, from someone who employs his fair share of disguises? If you're a terror of nations who just kickstarted open war with one country and is thinking about doing it with another, go a little harder than changing your outfit and tying your hair back. At least go blonde."

He winked. Alina was so busy being annoyed that a pirate thought he could give her advice, she nearly missed the way his tone dipped.

"I suppose your other name is Lady Killer," she said dryly. Outrage was clearly wasted on the ingrate.

He leaned in. His breath smelled of cinnamon, and she could just  _see_ it, the pirate king lounging on his throne of stolen gold, a quill hanging from his mouth. It suited him, she'd give him that much.

"Only when they cross me."

Alina kept her gaze straight forward, her voice soft. They could have been talking about the weather, the sky in her line of sight heavy with the promise of rain.

"Step away before I immolate you, Sturmhond."

He laughed, stepping back with his hands in the air. "I give, I give." He tapped his forehead, sweeping her a bow. "Good day, Sun Summoner."

She watched him return to his people - both of whom, she noted, had reached for their weapons. Did he pay them for their hyper defensiveness, she wondered, or could something other than money buy their trust?

It was something to think about when she had the time. She might need his help right now, but Sturmhond was by no means at the top of her priority list. Once the weapons shipments had been set up, she'd never have to deal with him again.

Just in case, though, it was a good idea to observe the way he operated. He was too slippery by half.

Nearby, Mal was grinning. He'd been given a clean bill of health that same morning, although that hadn't stopped him from helping load the caravans the day before. Alina watched him for a moment or two, scowling.

"What?" she finally snapped.

"Nothing." He gave her his most innocent expression. It was not very innocent. "I like him."

"He's a-" She stuttered to a stop, unsure of the level of camaraderie she had with Mal right now. Honestly, her relationship with the Darkling was easier to manage.

"Rascal?" Mal leaned his hip against a crate, grinning wider. "Rapscallion?"

"Jackass. And so are you."

He executed a wobblier version of the pirate's bow. "I live to serve, Terror of Nations."

 

**ii.**

No one around her liked him.

Alina watched Mal with the other soldiers about town, and he got along with them fine. The ones who didn't seem to have some easy relationship with him tended to avoid the boy more than anything more antagonistic.

But the people around Alina, Grisha and  _otkazat'sya_ alike? They were definitely not Mal fans. Ivan, she thought, could have quite happily murdered him in a dark corner, while Olga thought he was a distraction and Erik - she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was Erik thought. Only that it wasn't anything good.

Alina knew that should have given her pause. She trusted the people around her, at least to a limited degree. If they were so united against a single person, it was probably a sign she should ignore that person, at minimum.

She couldn't ignore Mal. She didn't even want to. There was no internal battle raging in her gut, no warning bells changing in her head. Her initial offense at his not remaining a chubby eight year old gone, she felt like a cat with a bird. Endlessly fascinated, watching to figure out the best angle from which to strike.

The fact that she couldn't seem to get it right only made it more tempting.

What she really needed was Genya. Alina missed her friend with a fierce sort of ache that even the Darkling couldn't match. There were always complications with him, secrets and ulterior motives that made being away from him a relief as much as it was an agony.

She couldn't always trust Genya to be honest with her. But if the older girl did lie, Alina could always, always trust that it was out of love.

But she was miles away, the Darkling's pawn waiting to be crowned queen. She could seek advice, but there was no one in her reach that she trusted enough to really confide in. The fact that everyone around her seemed to disapprove of Mal - to put it mildly - only made her want to keep him around more. Not to spite them, but because she simply didn't believe they knew what was best for her.

"Alina! What have you - get the  _hell_ off me!"

Scuffling sounds erupted from the corridor outside her single-occupancy room. She considered just leaving them to it, but Erik's voice made her think again.

"If it wouldn't upset her to see you dead, I would kill you where you stand. Be silent and be still, or I will find a more inventive way to hurt you."

"Fuck you."

"Charming." Alina pushed the door open, leaning against the frame. Erik had Mal's arms pinned, a knee in his back.

"I've been discharged." Mal spat.

"Honorably."

"That's not the point! You can't just reorganise my life because you're - because you're  _bored_  or something! What is wrong with you?"

"Watch it," Erik warned, earning him a bare-toothed snarl from the boy. The  _oprichnik's_  face remained stony, although the way Mal's snarl morphed into a grimace said that he'd tightened his hold.

Alina struggled to keep a grasp of her temper. "You lay there," she said evenly. "In that tent, and you told me how much you hated being in the army. You told me! I don't expect _thanks_ , but you could at least have some gratitude for saving you from being cannon fodder, going into this war.

"This war that you started!"

"Oh, so I should have just left you for the volcra, is that it?"

Erik was frowning at her, but Alina's focus was on Mal - she didn't have the attention to spare right now for figuring out what her guard was trying to tell her with his face. Satisfaction surged through her as Mal fell silent, unable to deny that she'd done the right thing - or at least, the best thing for him - going into the Fold that day.

"You're still missing the point," he muttered.

"Well, you're just going to have to live with that," she sniffed. "Believe it or not, I don't want you dead any more than you want you dead. And I need a tracker. This is killing two birds with one stone."

"The hell do you need a tracker for?"

"Tracking things. Are we done here? You need to pack. We're leaving for Os Alta tomorrow."

Silence. They looked at each other for a long time, the brown-haired boy and the Sun Summoner. He made a disgusted sound, shrugging at Erik's hold on him; the  _oprichnik_  waited until Alina nodded before letting go.

And then Mal was gone, storming down the hall like his own little weather system. That was probably condescending. Alina didn't care.

She had what she wanted.

 

**iii.**

The king was angry.

The whispers followed her around the Little Palace as she swept back into residence. The king was a weak and angry little man, but his rages were rarely a thing of note. As with the rest of him, they tended towards the unimpressive.

Not this time. Apparently a little war was bad for the system, because the man was calling for her head. She barely had time to strip herself of the blue  _kefta_  before her presence was demanded.

"Are you going to support me on this?"

The Darkling was in her quarters. She met his gaze in the mirror as she worked at her hair, pulling the loose waves into a high ponytail. Genya, it seemed, was busy with the queen. Not that she couldn't dress herself without her friend's help, but she wondered who had planned that absence.

"That depends." He was leaning against one of her bedposts, and she was trying very hard not to think about that. "Am I supporting you starting a war, or am I supporting you taking command in it?"

"I'm not taking command in it."

Alina watched his eyebrows twitch together, the faint signs of consternation on his beautiful face. He said nothing, a silent prompt for her to explain.

She tightened the ponytail and reached for her carmine, leaning forward to brush it onto her lips. "Whatever plan you have, you need the king where he is for the time being. Putting me in charge of anything is only going to upset him more, especially when the Second Army and our enemies already have a figure to love and fear in you. They don't need two."

"You aren't going to prompt me for my plan again?"

"Tired of hearing 'for Ravka' instead of actual answers." She pressed her lips together, inspected the effect, and then leaned back against the dresser, facing him. "On the other hand, it's not too hard to figure out why you'd want someone with Genya's skills to be so close to the king."

Did he know he was staring at her mouth? It seemed more likely than not, but she'd managed to pull more than one involuntary reaction out of him recently.

"Your presence works best at the head of an army. And the First Army is used to you, even if they're terrified of you. Some few soldiers might love me now while rumours of what I did in the Fold are fresh, but how long is that going to last when I'm sending them off to die?"

"Perhaps longer than if you were sitting in the Little Palace doing nothing," he pointed out.

"I'm not going to do nothing. I'm going to find the stag."

 

**iv.**

"I don't like the idea of her being out there without supervision." Theoretically, the king was talking to the Darkling, but his whole body was turned towards the Apparat.

It had been like that for most of the meeting. Alina had come prepared for screaming and spittle, and had instead been met with a man determined to ignore her. She was, begrudgingly, impressed at the skill with which the Apparat managed the man.

It didn't make him any less disgusting.

"The Sun Summoner's experience in the Unsea has revealed to her a new way," the odious priest wheedled. "It is, of  _course_ , a shame that Fjerda has reacted to her revelation in such a violent way, but we must not forget that the shadows offer safer passage now than they have in centuries."

"Yes, but she could have done that years ago." Apparently the king had forgotten his past displeasure at the idea of her doing anything provocative with her power unless it was total annihilation. "Am I supposed to be pleased that she's tipped us into a war?"

 _Fjerda has been carving chunks out of us for years!_  Alina wanted to scream.  _Ravka is weak because_ you _are weak! Genya should have killed you the first time you thought you had a right to touch her._

The Apparat spread his hands. "Who is to say how divine will works, your Majesty? The Sun Summoner was not born a Ravkan to bring this country to ruin. And if we are at war now, there is nothing to stop her from proving our power at the front lines."

And spreading the word of Sankta Alina as she went. Mal probably wouldn't appreciate the lesson he'd taught her, but she was making use of it anyway. Soldiers grew bitter at being sent off to die for nothing, and she doubted the common people saw any difference in this new war with Fjerda than any of the other hostilities that had erupted over the years.

Sankta Alina would be a saviour, popping up at rare and impossible moments to lay waste to the enemy. Assuming the hunt for the stag led her towards Fjerda, but honestly, Alina didn't really care if it didn't. There was itch under her skin that had been put in her as a child, and was only worse now that she'd experienced what the Fold could throw at her.

 _More_ , a quiet voice whispered in the back of her mind.  _More, more._

"Fine," the king sighed, like he'd finally become exhausted of asking questions. More likely, he'd become exhausted of thinking about them. "But if she fails to prove effective, she _will_  have the full force of the crown brought down upon her. I won't stand for any more mistakes."

The full force of this cretin's crown wasn't enough to make Alina blink, let alone worry. Next to her, the Darkling stirred, his cool voice taking on that soothing hint he only ever bothered using on the king and her eight year old self.

"Alina is aware of what is at stake, your Majesty," he said. "You have nothing to fear."

He was such an  _easy_  liar.

 

**v.**

"All right." Alina flopped back onto Genya's bed. "Yell away."

Genya perched on the edge of her mattress with a little more decorum. "I'm not going to yell at you," she said with a tired smile. "I'm just glad you're back."

Guilt dug its little claws into Alina's throat. She swallowed, staring up at the ceiling. "You know I'm leaving again soon."

"Yes, with your little  _otkazat'sya_ friend." Genya's smile became a little brighter as Alina jerked into a sitting position. "Servants talk, and you haven't been subtle about your fascination with the boy."

"You're not a servant," she said automatically, ignoring the other girl's patient sigh. "Did you happen to mention this - it's not a fascination - to the Darkling?"

A brief pause.

"He hasn't asked." Genya's light tone belied the implied 'but if he did, I'd have to tell him'. "He might be aware anyway. He was there for a lot of it."

"He...might have had other things on his mind."

Her friend's perfectly arched eyebrows crawled right up her forehead, and her impeccable posture straightened even further. "Alina," she said slowly. "What have you done?"

She thought, for a moment, of what this might be like if she was another girl. If the Darkling was just some boy, if Genya wasn't a political pawn being used in the worst kind of way. Would she gush about kissing a boy she liked, agonise over what it meant for the one she was with? Would Genya laugh with her about the whole situation, dispense romantic advice instead of political?

It sounded like a nightmare. It sounded so much  _easier._

"He kissed me," she said succinctly. "I...pretty much dared him to do it. I did the Cut, Genya, I finally _got_  it, and I just wanted him to see me. I didn't care about the politics, or the personal complications. I cared about the power, and I wanted to shove it in his face."

"Literally," Genya murmured, huffing as Alina shoved her in the shoulder. "What? You gave me an opening, I took it."

"You aren't  _helping_."

"I wasn't aware I was required to  _help_." But the older girl sighed, pulling her into a hug that was all softness and warmth. Alina pressed her forehead into her shoulder, sucking in a shaky breath.

"Ivan knows. Or, sort of knows. I didn't break it off with him, does that make me a terrible person?"

"I am never going to think you're a terrible person."

That didn't answer the question, but Alina wasn't sure she cared. Of all the good opinions in the world, Genya's was the one that mattered most. The older girl sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I can't reassure you, you know," she said. "There is no universe in which this story has a happy ending. He's the Darkling. No matter what he professes to feel for you, no matter what he  _really_  feels for you, that truth always comes first. Before anything else."

Alina thought about his mouth on hers, the way his fingers dug into her body, the heat between them that had nothing to do with the sun. She thought about all the little motions, the shift of his expressions, the faint pauses before his spoke.

She thought about how all of that could be put down to calculation the same as it could be put down to passion.

She didn't care.

"There's a part of me that says you're right," she told the white thread of Genya's  _kefta_. "There's a part of me that thinks he'll ruin me if I go any further with this."

Genya's hand lifted, sliding through her hair in gentle strokes. "I'm sensing a but."

"But," Alina agreed, lifting her head. "But. Imagine how sweet it would be if all those parts are wrong. Imagine what I could do as his equal in every sense of the word."

Genya closed her eyes, breathing deep. "You can be his equal without serving yourself up on a platter."

She shook her head. "No. It's all or nothing, Genya. And I refuse to be nothing."

For a long moment, it seemed as if the other girl might say something, continue the conversation in some way.

But the moment passed on another soft sigh and a shake of the head that Alina failed to find relaxing. On the other hand, Genya didn't exist for the sole purpose of relaxing her. She smiled at her friend, flopping back onto the bed.

"I love you," she told the ceiling.

Genya chuckled. They both pretended to ignore the sadness in the sound. "I love you too, Sun Summoner. Now, tell me about this tracker boy."

 

**vi.**

Light spilled through the crack under the ornate doors, undisturbed by the slightest shadow. But he was in there. She could always find him when she wanted to.

The  _oprichniki_  said nothing as she walked past them. She caught the unfriendly exchanges between his guards and hers, and filed them away as important for later. The wood was cool as she pressed her palm to it, slowly opened the door.

"Do you ever actually use that?" She nodded to the bed before her brain could catch up with the rest of her. At least she didn't blush.

He was sprawled loosely in an armchair, chin resting lightly on one hand. One corner of his mouth twitched, and she watched his gaze flicker over to the mattress, and back to her.

"Occasionally."

She let the door shut behind her. For a moment they stayed like that, her at the entrance, him in the chair, the spill of moonlight through the open curtains the only light between them. It set an atmosphere, if nothing else.

"I'm wondering," he said, surprising her by speaking first, "why it is that you constantly find reasons to be apart from me."

Alina raised her eyebrows. "I could ask the same question."

"You know my duties."

"I know your duties change with your whims."

"Do you consider me an especially whimsical person?"

She began to cross the room towards him. They held each other's gaze, and she wondered which one of them was actually challenging the other. "I consider you a person who doesn't like to be told no." She smiled. "I consider you a person who could use it every now and then."

A long beat passed, before he shifted in his chair, leaning towards her. "Are you making yourself a lesson to me, Alina?"

For a single breath, she considered stopping. She considered Genya's words, considered what a happy ending would look like for a person for her.

She considered that one probably didn't exist, and exhaled again. Sliding into his lap was the easiest thing she'd ever done.

His hands settled at her waist, supporting her, not pulling her closer. She leaned in anyway, trailing her words along his jaw. "I've decided," she said softly, "that I'm not making myself anything for anyone except me."

"Some might call that selfish." His cool breath caressed her cheek. She didn't bother to suppress a shiver.

"So I'm selfish." She pressed a kiss to his neck, just below his ear. "I don't hear you complaining."

There was a tension in his body, and she loved every bit of it, the still way he held himself back from her. It made his inevitable capitulation that much sweeter.

"What do you hope to get out of this?" he murmured. One hand left her waist, smoothed slowly up the curve of her hip before dragging back down again.

Alina laughed. "Think about it." She shifted closer, grinned as a quiet exhale puffed over her skin. "I'm sure it'll come to you."


	25. Chapter 25

**interlude.**

There had been a time when the Darkling brought her comfort.

Not in the typical sense of the word. He wasn't the man she went to to dry her tears, to reassure her that everything would be okay. Everything was not okay. Everything would never  _be_  okay, so long as Grisha lived a threatened life. So long as King Alexander was still on the throne.

The Darkling never lied to her, in that sense. Instead of 'it will all be okay', he gave her 'we are going to fix it.'

She had believed that. She still believed it. But it didn't give her the comfort it once had.

There had been an acceptable price. She wondered what it said, that she included herself in that bargain, but not Alina.

"You are unhappy with me, Genya."

She looked over at him from her tiny, portable workbench. Grateful that he'd spoken, wishing he'd said something different.

"I'm not sure what you expect me to say to that."

"The truth would be nice."

The truth was never nice. "You know I'm close to Alina," she said finally, focusing on the eyedropper she held over a vial.  _That's why you used her against me._ "I worry about her. I miss her."

He made a noncommittal sound that send a chill creeping down her spine. A tinkling sound reverberated through the room; she steadied her hand. The truth was that he was ancient, and Alina was seventeen. The truth was that he had goals, and Alina's happiness was not at the top of the list. Or even on it at all.

The truth was that he couldn't love her, not really. Genya didn't think such a thing could exist amidst so much ego, so much power. And Alina would be too far gone before she realised it.

The Darkling was no fool. He wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't put his finger on exactly what was making Genya unhappy with him. Everything he did and said had a greater purpose. She needed to remember that.

"Soon," he said finally, and it had the weight of a promise to it. "You will be free to travel with her, if that's what you choose. Can you bear it?"

Genya forced her shoulders to slump, coerced a tired smile of relief onto her face. Shrugged the familiar lie of comfort onto her body. It was important that he believed  _she_  believed his concern. It was important that he continued to believe himself a safe harbour for her, despite her worry for Alina.

"I am a soldier," she said. That was also the truth. "If my battlefield doesn't look like everyone else's, I can bear it all the same."

 

**i.**

Alina felt  _guilty_.

It wasn't an emotion she wore well. It scribbled a scowl onto her face, made her shoulders hunch up. She stared at the little hut, like it might jump up on chicken legs and start doing a little dance.

"Come or go, girl," an ugly rasp came from inside it. "But don't stand out there looking like a fool. I know it comes naturally, but make an effort."

"And here I was just starting to feel bad for not visiting you in a while." She shoved the door open, letting a swirl of frigid air precede her. Baghra didn't comment on it, probably because she'd done it on purpose. Baghra hated to be satisfactory in any way.

"Who said I wanted to see you?"

"You didn't miss me?" The door clicked shut, and for a brief, disorienting second, Alina felt eight years old again. How long had it been since she'd visited the old Grisha? Months, at least. She couldn't remember if she'd come the last time she was at the Little Palace or not. "I'm hurt."

"The worries of your ego are of no concern to me."

"Wanting my teacher to miss me doesn't fall under an  _ego_  worry."

Baghra snorted. Her strange, tight face was cast in shadow in the back of the hut, even though it was the middle of the day. This place wasn't exactly one for natural light. Without thinking about it, Alina pulled on the strands of sun sneaking in through drawn curtains and the crack under the door, casting a pleasant glow throughout the room.

Did some of the shadows seem reluctant to withdraw? Alina wondered, sometimes, if she was making things up in her own head to fit her theories, or if they were really happening.

"Nine years and the best training in the world, and you still behave like an obnoxious brat," Baghra grumbled. "Come here then. Let me look at our new saint."

She didn't  _mean_  to blush. She was the Sun Summoner! An old and bitter woman in a hut shouldn't have phased her one bit. But she was kidding herself if she didn't think that Baghra was more - so much more - than that. To her, in general. She wanted the woman to be proud of her.

Or at least, not disappointed. It was an uncomfortable feeling, for a girl who had spent so much time lately being something else. She stepped in front of Baghra.

"I see you've dispensed with anything resembling subtlety." Gnarled fingers plucked the gold fabric of her  _kefta_. "Does it make you feel secure, Sun Summoner."

"It's not for me. Everyone likes a show. Some people need one."

"Ah, so you wear rich cloth and fine jewels in your hair for the  _people_."

"You think they'd believe in me if I came to them in rags? They need a symbol. They need hope."

Baghra leaned back in her chair. The ever-present fire crackled, the temperature in the room always slightly too hot. "And you have volunteered yourself."

It was Alina's turn to snort. She took her own seat, a silent declaration that she wouldn't be intimidated. Maybe it was a little silly. She didn't care. "I have been volunteered by any and everyone. People I don't even know. You can sit there and judge all you like, old woman, but what else did you expect me to do? What else could I have done?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, two women, each with their own immense power. How had Baghra come to end up in hut, on the edges of the Little Palace? What had the world volunteered her for, that she hadn't been able to turn away from?

"You will always have a choice," Baghra said finally. She was not looking at Alina, but at the too-hot fire. "Even when you think you have no other option, it will lurk in the dark. You make the decisions you think you can stomach, Alina. And live with the consequences."

She wanted to go. There was something in the old woman's voice, some ancient thing that might have been pain in someone who had lived less years. Anyone else would flee, Alina thought. She couldn't be blamed if she went.

She stood. Pulled down an old, familiar text from a nearby shelf, returned to her seat.

"Where did I leave off last time?"

"You think I can't read on my own?"

"I think you like having me do it for you."

"Hmmph."

 

**interlude.**

This place was obscene.

She fit right in.

The boy wondered what the hell he was doing there. She wanted him to track something - oh, he knew that much. Alina Starkov would use anything and everything at hand to achieve her goals, he was realising.

But he had his discharge, honourable, if not fairly gained. Had she even considered that he might run? Did she assume everyone would just fall over themselves to help her? Or was this some sort of test, some way of proving loyalty she hadn't earned?

Saints, he wanted to hate her. But that wasn't true. His shoulder was healed, but the boy could still remember the agony of claws piercing flesh, of being certain he would be torn apart. Or that his arm would be ripped from his body, and he would plummet to his death on the grey sands below.

She had come for him. And the boy wasn't a politician, but he could trace cause and effect easily enough. That action had consequences, and all signs pointed towards Alina being completely aware of what those consequences were.

He didn't owe her anything for that, he told himself. He hadn't asked her to come blazing into the Fold like a second sun, hadn't asked her to upset the apparently  _extremely_  delicate balance between nations for his sake.

And yet, here he was. In the Little Palace, being shown his new quarters, his new uniform.

Charcoal suited him, it turned out.

"Remember," his new friend Erik told him. "You do not deserve this."

He bared his teeth. "And what did you do, that was so worthy?"

The man said nothing. But the boy thought he knew, could piece together the answer from the silence and the light of sincerity in his face.

Here was a person who loved the Sun Summoner, and not with the ugly need of the Heartrender. Erik had devoted himself to the girl without any expectation of return, in a way even some of the boy's new comrades hadn't done.

On a visceral, instinctive level, the boy still hated him. But as Erik left the  _oprichniki_  quarters adjacent to hers, he couldn't help but feel the faintest kindling of something like respect.

 

**ii.**

She couldn't stop looking at him.

It was a problem. If Alina was in a position to be looking at Mal, other people were in a position to be noticing it. It was a dangerous thing, for people to be aware that there was a connection between them beyond 'I found this highly skilled tracker boy on the Fold'.

She told herself that she'd be fine if something happened to him. That the business with the Fold was an exercise in poor impulse control. That he was annoying anyway, and uncouth. Ill-behaved. He didn't even like her.

But the sight of him in an  _oprichnik_ uniform drew her gaze despite her best efforts, and not because it fit him well. It did, but she was Grisha. She had grown up around beautiful men.

She had also grown up with a patchwork uniform stashed in her bottom drawer. And the dream of a small and scared eight year old might have faded like the light at dusk, but some pale remnant had remained. Seeing it brought to life now, when she was setting out to become so much more more-

It unsettled her. She wasn't happy about that. She reached for her throat, absently fingering the alexandrite pendant nestled there. Next to her, Genya sighed.

"You're treading dangerous waters, Alina."

Coming from anyone else, Alina probably would have bitten their head off. From Genya, the truth in the words pinched at her. She nudged her friend. "Have a little faith. I'm a strong swimmer."

"If you think I'm going to extend this little metaphor any further, you don't know me at all." Amusement danced in golden eyes, but even Genya couldn't erase the worry completely from her face. "Where's your great hunk of glowering man meat?"

They were gathered outside one of the servants' entrances to the Little Palace - the Sun Summoner might have left in high style, but the saint slipped away in the early morning, to pop up who knew where next. Alina had a golden  _kefta_  packed away in her saddlebags, but for now, she wore an  _oprichnik_  uniform. The Darkling sent his soldiers throughout the countryside often, and it was unlikely anyone would see fit to bother them under his colours.

That was a sour thought. Alina swallowed it, trying to pick through her thoughts to find the particular hunk of man meat Genya was talking about.

"Ivan?" From the corner of her eye, she caught Mal's heavy eyeroll at the name. "I said goodbye last night."

"I hope you used protection."

" _Genya_." It took everything in her not to cast a furtive glance at the tracker. Erik and Olga were there as well, but they were well used to being privy to some of Alina's most intimate moments, and she was used to having them there. Mal? Mal was - well, he was new. She wasn't used to him. So there.

"What? It's a relevant concern." There was a wicked twinkle in Genya's eye. "It's not like you're taking a Healer with you."

"Saints, and to think I thought I was going to miss you."

But she pulled the older girl into a hug, and the two of them held each other for a beat longer than propriety strictly demanded.

"Soon," Alina murmured. "We'll find the stag, Genya, and everything will change. I promise."

"What do I care about some smelly animal? Just come home safe." Her gaze slid over Alina's shoulder, finding purchase on Mal's face. Alina gave a quiet groan, anticipating her next words. "Let her come to harm,  _otkazat'sya_ , and the things I do to you will make you beg for death."

"Do you people have an off switch?" he shot back. "Or is it just all drama, all the time?"

"Okay!" Alina said brightly, feeling Genya stiffen. "That was fun, but we really have to be off now. Things to do, mythical creatures to see." She pressed a kiss to Genya's cheek, before separating from her. "We'll be back before you know it. I have a good feeling about this."

Genya sniffed, tossing her head as she headed for the side door back into the palace. "I don't care about the rest of them. Just make it back in one piece."

Alina laughed, swinging herself up into one of the saddled horses readied for them. "I'm the Sun Summoner. It's everyone else who has to worry about staying in one piece around _me_."

 

**iii.**

"We're looking for a stag."

The look Mal was giving her could have stripped paint. She raised an eyebrow back at him. "Did I stutter?"

"Nope. White stag, straight out of an old wives' tale. Just making sure I'm not hallucinating."

"You're the one who can make rabbits out of rocks."

He snorted, but she noticed he turned his face away from her. Were his ears turning red? The horses were moving at speed; it was difficult to tell.

"Who told you that?"

"I hear things."

"It's not literal. It's not  _magic_. Anyone can read the signs, I'm just better at it than-"

"Everyone?" He said nothing. "Or do you know someone else who could find tracks in the dark?"

"You were lighting the place up!"

Alina should have let it go. He was clearly agitated, although she couldn't tell why.  _It's not_ _ **magic**_ _._ Obviously it wasn't, and she'd never heard of a tracking Grisha before either. If it _was_  the Small Science, the amplifier would have picked it up when they were children. Unless she hadn't been a very good amplifier?

She was transported, just for a moment, to a world where Mal had come to the Little Palace with her. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her gut. Why did she  _care_  so much? A year, less than a year, when she was a child - what was that in the face of a lifetime amongst Grisha?

 _Children feel things strongly_ , she told herself.  _You were a lonely little girl, of course you clung to the memory of him._

Of course there was more than one person she'd connected to as a child, but she certainly wasn't about to walk down that path.

"I think there's more to it," she said finally, realising she'd been silent too long. Mal was eyeing her strangely. "And even if there's not, you're clearly better than the people around you. You can't do any worse than those who have tried so far."

"Saints." She startled, hearing the venom on his voice. "Do you make all your decisions by measuring people's usefulness to you, or did I just get lucky?"

"You got lucky, boy," Olga called from behind them.

Instead of snapping at Mal like she'd been about to, Alina grinned. It was Mal's turn to look startled, and she didn't miss the way he looked between her and the other  _oprichnik_. Like he'd been expecting some other kind of reaction from her.

"What else would you suggest I measure people by?" she said instead. "Their honesty and kindness? The good deeds they do? How do you judge people, that you think you have the right to get on my back about how I do?"

She waited for the retort, for the familiar prick of bewildered hurt that tended to come whenever this boy opened his mouth. And he did open his mouth - twice, in fact - but whatever it was that he wanted to say, he appeared to think better of it.

They rode on in silence.

 

**iv.**

"It's cold."

"Excuse me," Alina said, rising from the campfire. Three sets of eyes followed her, Erik and Olga already half rising to join her. She gave them a flat look. "I can relieve myself on my own, thanks."

They both looked like they wanted to argue, but they stayed where they were. It was a difficult balance to maintain sometimes, giving them autonomy while keeping her own. She'd managed it so far, but she was aware that Mal had tipped the scales. In what direction, it remained to be seen.

She waited until she had passed through a good number of snow laden trees before speaking to her visitor.

"You aren't helping my reputation," she murmured, leaning against a nearby trunk. It pulled at the threads of her  _kefta_ , pure gold now. "A saint and the Sun Summoner, with the weakest bladder known to man."

The Darkling stood near her, close enough to touch if she reached for him. She kept her hands to herself. "Consider it an exercise in creativity."

"Oh, so you're my teacher now?"

"Haven't I always been?"

Alina wondered. It had been Baghra who had led her to the depths and edges of her power, other Grisha who had trained her in the minutiae. Botkin, an  _otkazat'sya_ , who had taught her to fight.

"That doesn't say anything particularly nice about you, you know."

He didn't move, barely batted an eye. And yet the energy between them shifted in a breath, electrified. "If I wanted to be nice to you, Alina, I wouldn't be here."

She closed her eyes, tipping her head back against the trunk. A tiny shower of snow drifted over her hair. She told herself that was what caused the shiver. "Do you know what I want to learn,  _sir_?"

"Tell me."

She traced a lattice of light through the trees, barely noticeable through the dappled sun poking holes in the canopy overhead. She could feel the shadows of branches sweeping back and forth overhead, the skittering of animals scouring the chill environment for food. "How to defy the laws of time and space to come and see  _you_  when you least expect it. The middle of a strategy meeting, maybe. When you're trying to give a stirring speech."

His chuckle was low, warm against the air. She couldn't feel him pass through her light, but she knew he moved closer.

"Not alone?"

Alina paused, cracking an eye open. He was close enough to touch now, if she so much as leaned forward. She kept her back to the tree. "Maybe alone."

"And what have I done, that I win only a maybe from you?"

"Maybe I'm playing hard to get."

"Then you are very bad at this game."

She opened her other eye, met his directly. Close enough to breathe on, if he was really there. What did he feel? "Maybe I haven't started playing in earnest."

Silence. Alina waited, sure he was going to kiss her, or come back with some new teasing comment, but-

Something else crossed his face. Something new. Alina had known the Darkling for nearly a decade now, but she struggled to remember ever seeing an expression on those carved features that might have been called vulnerable. She wasn't even sure she could use the word now, but it was the only thing that seemed to apply.

"I would prefer if you didn't."

Some girls wished for an  _I love you_. Alina hadn't been aware that she'd been waiting for something like this until he said the words. Until he looked at her like it would mean something if he lost her.

She sucked in a breath. It shuddered between them. "You're getting soft on me."

"Is that a complaint?"

"What do you think?"

Something brushed the edge of Alina's awareness, something real and tangible. Some part of her double checked the movement for suspicious activity, but it didn't feel dangerous. Not compared to the man before her.

"I think," the Darkling said softly, and he wasn't there, he wasn't there, but she felt his breath on her cheek anyway, "that you have company."

"Alina?"

She started, and the Darkling was gone. Standing in his place - or not in his place, not nearly so close, but having been previously hidden by the shape of the man - was Mal.

A beat passed.

"I told you I didn't need a helping hand," she snapped. The net of light flared brighter, and the boy let out a faint yelp.

He scowled at her, having regained his dignity. "Well I'm sorry if you made me a guard, and I thought you might need some guarding. You've been gone nearly half an hour."

She stalked through the trees, shoving past him. "Maybe I had stomach troubles. Unless I'm screaming, don't follow me."

He made a gesture like he was going to catch her arm, but caught himself. Alina stopped anyway, wrapping her arms around her chest. How much had he seen? She didn't like that he might have seen any of it, and she couldn't put her finger on why.

"You looked-" She waited for him to continue, and why was she always waiting on men? He blew out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I was just worried about you, all right? Is that okay?"

Alina swallowed down the urge to snap at him again. There was something about Malyen Oretsev that seemed to make her frustrated, no matter what she was doing. "I suppose I can allow it."

He snorted. "Whatever you say, Terror of Nations. What was that, by the way?"

"What was what?"

"The light thing. It didn't feel hot."

Alina considered for a moment. The lattice wasn't something she made general knowledge, but if he was going to be guarding her, it would do him good to know that she wasn't completely obtuse when it came to her own personal safety. "It mimics the natural light," she said finally. "If I lay it in a perimeter around me, I can feel the shadows crossing it. Most people don't notice."

"Huh." Without realising it, they had started to walk. "I guess that's how you sensed me."

"Sensed you?" She gave him a blank stare. "Sensed you when?"

The eyeroll he gave her should have pricked at her usual frustration, but it didn't. Maybe because he didn't seem to be mocking her this time, or mad. He pitched his voice higher, but teasing. "'Are you going to do anything, or just stand there?'"

A laugh escaped Alina before she could stop herself. Through the mesh of trees before them, she could see both Erik and Olga jerk, turning towards the sound. "Is that supposed to be me?"

"You're right, the accent was way too low class. Sorry, Terror of Nations, should I elongate my vowels?"

"My vowels are perfectly fine, thank you very much. That was you?"

He shrugged. They weren't touching, but she could feel the motion. "My unit was leaving Poliznaya. It was the lean season, I was hunting. I guess I found more than I'd bargained for. I thought I could sneak up on anything, until that day."

"Well, then." She took her seat next to the campfire, trying not to think about what else the Darkling might have said if Mal hadn't interrupted. She was on a mission now. She needed to focus. "I'm glad I was able to poke a hole in that ego of yours, tracker."

He laughed. It was a clear sound, more genuine than she'd expected. Alina couldn't help but smile back.

"Oh, no. My ego's definitely fine."

The passed the rest of the evening easily for once, but Alina couldn't help wondering if the Darkling would return to her, once she retired to her tent.

He didn't.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dont look at me
> 
> i am trying some new i can make no promises about update speed or if this will ever be finished, but i miss this story and would like to continue it via a series of short stories rather than chapters.

They head north.

If Malyen Oretsev weren’t such a stubborn ass, Alina would almost suspect him of trying to help. North is Fjerda, after all. North is the war that she caused, in which she is not allowed to fight.

Erik and Olga, she can tell, think something else entirely. They don’t speak, allowing her the dignity of her decisions, but she canread their faces like an open book. _How do we know he isn’t leading us into a trap?_

 _We don’t. Be ready_.

Alina decides to find it funny, rather than irritating. The idea that some _otkazat’sya_ soldier - no matter what connection she feels to him - could arrange any kind of trap to work on the Sun Summoner.

“How do you do it?”

There’s a barely constrained annoyance in his face when she pulls her horse up alongside him. He’s on foot, inspecting what looks like more white snow to Alina, and something in her delights at the defiance. The thought that he’d get on well with Zoya dances in the back of her brain, and all delight abruptly drains away.

Zoya, she thinks, would get on well with _him_.

“Did you want me to do it, or talk to you about it?” he grumbles, straightening. Alina rolls her eyes.

“If I’d known you could only do one thing at a time, I would have asked for a different tracker.”

“I’m sorry, am I not finding a mythical creature fast enough for you?”

“It’s _not_ a myth.”

The words hold more heat than she’d planned; Mal takes a step back, eyes flickering to her gloved hands for a bare second. Mirrors sparkle back at him. As they encroach on the border, she’s not taking any chances. She hasn’t shown him what she can do with them yet, but the shuttered look on his face says that he’s put two and two together.

Most people would cower. Even Grisha, Alina thinks. Especially Grisha, who understand the extent of her power. But Mal simply lifts his chin, a mulish cast crashing down over his features.

“You’ve already got more power than God,” he says, and his hands are in fists. “What can this thing do that you need it so badly?”

 _It can set me free_.

But that’s a thought that belongs to her. Not this abandoned orphan boy, or the chill winter air between them. Alina borrows a smile from years of watching Genya, and tosses her head.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve got _more_ power than god. We’re about on par.”

“Miss Alina--” Erik starts, and there’s an urgency in his voice that’s all but wasted as the first arrows _zing_ through the air and Alina abruptly becomes aware of the ant-like feeling crawling over her sin from the bastards disturbing her net of light.

“NO!” The word tugs from her mouth on instinct as she throws out a hand, incinerating one of the projectiles before it buries itself in Mal’s skull. He whirls, wide-eyed, pulling the rifle off his shoulder in one fluid movement, and in that brief second, they are aligned.

Loud cries spill over the snow banks. Shots fire. And Alina wraps each worn pair of boots in threads of light that burns through the older leather like so much paper, holding them in place as she shrugs back her dark cloak. She pulls at the sun to give her a halo, sits astride on a white horse in a gold _kefta_ , and speaks.

“Ravka has no place for bandits.”

The last time she had faced such people, she hadn’t been able to punish them accordingly for fear of hurting the travellers they’d been attacking. This time--

The mirrors on her hands flash, and so do Mal’s teeth as he bares them at her, lunging for her wrists. “ _No!_ ” 

The power surging through her falters. The chains of light shimmer and dance, a glitter on water disturbed by the current. Mal’s fingers are searing even through her _kefta_ as they scrabble at her arms, or maybe that’s just her. Maybe she wants him feel as dangerous on the outside as he does to her insides.

And then Erik is there, arm around his broad chest, knife to his throat. “You know why you are not dead,” he murmurs in Mal’s ear. “But do not think I am afraid to cripple you.”

A chorus of fumbled apologies rise up from the snow, with wisps of steam from the shock of heat on cold. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I’m sorry_.

And then--

 _Sankta. Sankta. Sankta Alina_.

With Mal’s eyes like two chips of ice digging under her skin, Alina lets her hands drop. The light unwinds itself, sinks back into her lattice with a faint _hiss_ as she disperses the heat.

“They attacked us,” she points out.

“You said you didn’t murder,” he spits back, heedless of the thin line of blood that wells up over the edge of Erik’s blade. Erik doesn’t relent. Mal apparently has no intention of letting that get in the way of what he needs to say. “You said that everyone you killed was in the service of Ravka. Look at them, Alina. Your Ravkans are _starving_.”

She doesn’t look at them. She doesn’t look at them, because she can feel them on her network of light splayed out around them. Feel the lightness of their steps. The hesitation of them.

She doesn’t look at them because Mal is right in a way that makes her second-guess herself.

“Go,” she says, staring him down. And then, in case it isn’t clear that she’s talking to them and not him, “All of you cretins, _go_.”

Mal’s voice is soft when he speaks again, and venomous. “So they can go and die out of your sight?”

“Erik, put the knife down.” She reaches into her hair, tugs a few sparkling pins from the intricately coiled loops. Two curled locks slither free, and Mal’s eyes more for the first time since he’d caught hers, following the motion down her throat. She holds the pins to her _oprichnik_. “Take these to them.”

He moves slow enough that she knows he’s reluctant, but her bearing is ice-cold as the snow around them and the ugliness in Mal’s eyes; he takes the pins and jogs after the quickly disappearing bandits, Olga covering his back with her rifle.

“Satisfied?” Alina spits back, like she doesn’t care for the answer. Like she doesn’t want for that poisonous mouth to turn its words on some other target.

“You don’t have enough hairpins to feed all the mouths in Ravka, Alina Starkov,” he points out, and if she’d hoped for him to relent, there’s no sign of backing down in him. Face, words, body, they remain taut in defiance.

She reaches into the pocket of her _kefta_ , pulls out a handkerchief, throws it at him. “See to your throat,” she says shortly. “And consider how much use you’ll be to all those starving Ravkans if it ends up sliced all the way through.”

There’s venom in her own voice, and she hates it. Hates him briefly, for putting it there. _For Ravka_ echoes in her mind alongside _It can set me free_ , and for the first time she considers that they are not the same thing.


	27. Chapter 27

Alina had learnt at a young age that hot things were not for touching. You didn’t rest your elbow on the stove, you didn’t stick your hand in the fire, and lanterns weren’t toys.

Of course, then she went to the Little Palace, and all of those lessons became moot. She was protected, and then she was heat herself.

“Why come back?”

Mal glances up from the messy work of skinning rabbits. His hair falls over his eyes, and there are probably dozens of _otkazat’sya_ peasant girls who would swoon at his feet to have that intent gaze directed at them. Maybe even a few Grisha.

Alina raises her eyebrows. He snorts, returning to his rabbits.

“I’m not stupid enough to make an enemy of the Sun Summoner.”

She hates her title on his mouth. There’s something about the way his lips twist aroundp it that make it sound dirty, and not in a fun way. He'd called her Terror of Nations with a quirk of a smile once, and she misses it in a way that makes her teeth grit.

“And I'm not stupid enough to think you couldn't disappear if you wanted to. Your discharge is honorable, you have abilities that could help you disappear, you clearly don't want to be here--”

“Right, because _tracking_ is going to stand up against Grisha.”

“Are you saying you can find a mythological creature, but can't outrun the Second Army to one of the many countries that hate us?”

She waits for the inevitable irritation, the instant sting of some snappy comeback that has become a hallmark of their relationship the past few weeks. Some days she thinks he might even be enjoying himself. Most days, she’s sure he hates her. Either way, she’s a masochist.

He says nothing. Alina would be willing to bet that he’s doing it on purpose just to punish her for whatever sin she’s committed now, and the urge to just get up and leave his sour ass to his work rises up in her throat.

Except there’s a tremble to his hands. She hadn’t seen it at first, his knife work as steady as ever. But in the breaths between each smooth pass of the blade, she spots it. The faint hesitation, the moment it takes for him to get himself under control again before he repeats the motion.

So she stays. Genya’s rich voice echoes in her head, warm and teasing. _We call this waiting, Alina_. And she knows it’s ridiculous but she shoots a quick _I don’t like it_ back at her own mental construct. What’s the point in being the Sun Summoner if you can’t be a little ridiculous?

“You screamed for me.”

It’s probably a sign that she’s spent too much time around the Darkling that her first instinct is to scowl, sure that’s an innuendo. But he’s not looking at her, his eyes tracking the sweep of his knife. Over, over, over.

“You screamed for me, and then they took you anyway. I still remember it, you know. They way they worked your fingers out of my shirt, one at a time.” His shoulder lifts, helpless. “Maybe if you’d killed those bandits, I’d be gone. Maybe if you’d ordered me to do something I couldn’t stand, I’d be gone. Maybe if you hadn’t come into the Fold - you get the point.”

“So you’re waiting for me to prove I’m a monster?”

She should follow that up with a denial. That she’s not, that she won’t be.

She doesn’t.

“I don’t know that I’m waiting for anything.” He lifts his head, and she’s struck with how blue his eyes look against the frozen landscape around them. She hadn’t realised how warm the colour could be, for all that his expression is still blank, guarded. “I just want to be the one who decides to let go this time. I’m tired of having my choices taken from me. And I think you are, too.”

He isn’t

wrong.

The denial springs to her mouth anyway. She swallows it down. _You don’t know me_. _The only part of me that you have are assumptions and memories._

“I didn’t go into the Fold for the soldiers,” she says instead. “It wasn’t altruism. I went in because you’re a part of my history that I haven’t--”

His mouth quirks. “Let go of?”

She scowls. “ _Resolved_.”

He shrugs with both shoulders this time, pulling at the rabbit skin. It shucks off in one smooth movement, and he tosses it over with the others. “There’s still a lot of soldiers that are alive today that wouldn’t have been otherwise. I don’t know, maybe you risked a war getting started because of a whim, and you’re horribly selfish, and I’ll figure that out and get out of here before you get us all killed because you you fancy a stroll on a battlefield.”

“Or?”

“Or what? I’m a tracker, not a fortune teller.” He looks at the mess of blood and guts and meat and fur around him. “Why’d you need this many rabbits?”

She wants to press him for more. She wants to dig her fingers into his brain or his heart and pull out the answers, the thing inside of him that makes her want to keep him around, that makes her want him to _like her_. But the moment has passed, and she might be the Sun Summoner, but she’s Alina too. And Alina knows that sometimes you catch more flies with honey than a punch to the face.

She pushes herself to her feet, stretches her arms up over her head. She half expects his gaze to travel over her, because that’s what men tend to _do_ in her presence, but he’s watching her face expectantly. Like they’re equals, and he’s owed an answer other than ‘because I told you to.’

“Olga mentioned the village up ahead was running low on supplies. We’re helping.”

“Clothed in gold and glowing?”

She gives him a tight smile, to match his tone of voice. “Hope keeps people alive longer than despair, Mal. So does meat.”

“Whatever you say, Terror of Nations.”

*

There is no moon.

It throws the stars into sharp relief. Alina tips her face up to the sky and traces constellations. Her breath is invisible despite the chill of the north, chased away by the glow of her power. The snow has melted around her, and she carves a path through the only road in the village. Only when she reaches the main square does she suck the heat out of her light - she needs the snow to keep her packages fresh.

She leaves as silently as she came. It’s only when she reaches the edge of the village that she announces her presence more dramatically, sending a cascade of light pouring through the buildings. Bright as the sun - brighter.

And then it’s gone, and her with it. She returns to the camp, where Mal and her guards do a passable impression of people who hadn’t just followed her.

“I’m going to bed,” she says, voice dry as bone. Olga gives her a toothy grin around a supposed nod of deference. Alina rolls her eyes, shoves the tent flap aside, and does an impressive job of not jumping at the sight of the Darkling perched on the edge of her camp bed, chin resting on his knees.

“Hello, Alina,” he says, like he hadn’t left her alone in the middle of a forest the last time he did this. Like he hadn’t spent the past few days _ignoring_ her.

She should leave. She should go and join the others around the campfire, pretend for a moment that her people are her fellows, and not this aggravating apparition in front of her.

Her joints pop as she perches next to him. He’s not real, or at least not really there, but she leans into him anyway. A breathless moment passes, and then his arm is around her. Pulling her in, warm and solid.

“I’m not happy with you,” she murmurs, turning her face into his shoulder. Her nose brushes the side of his neck. His fingers tighten at her shoulder, and that familiar chuckle rolls through her.

“When are you ever?”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well
> 
> hello friends it has been some time
> 
> i guess we're doing this again <3

It’s still dark when Alina hears her name through the canvas of her tent, not that that means much this far north. Daylight still exists, of course, but it acts more as a buffer between the two edges of night than its own distinct entity.

Alina thumbs the pendant at her neck. She can relate.

“ _What_?” she hisses back, drawing her furs around her like a cloak. It’s too cold to worry about dignity, even if she has other methods of keeping herself warm. Blankets don’t require concentration when she’s just been startled awake.

“It’s the stag.”

Alina is immediately, violently awake. She rips the canvas aside and nearly slams right into Mal, whose arms jerk out immediately to steady her. Somewhere behind them she can hear Erik shifting, just in case this is the night the tracker decides to murder her.

“Cold?” Mal asks, and there’s a deeper tone to his voice. Amusement, she realises. It’s been a while, and she has a sudden urge to pin him down and dissect him for what, exactly, changed.

“We aren’t all masochists,” she grumbles. “The stag? Is it suddenly nearby after all this time? Because call me a sceptic--”

“Between the two of us, you’re the one who started this wild goose chase in the first place. So you’re definitely not a sceptic, but no, it’s not _suddenly nearby_.” He glances back over his shoulder, and she catches sight of his profile, limned in the moonlight. “I just...I was on watch, thinking, and things that didn’t make sense before started to come together. Tracks, signs. I think it’s heading towards the border.”

His hands are still on her upper arms, but there’s a complicated look of longing in the lines of his face that she’s only ever seen directed at _her_ before. Not from this boy, obviously, but it’s disquieting to recognise the expression and not be the recipient of it. She pushes his hands away from her, tugs the furs closer around her neck.

“What were you thinking about that suddenly made everything clear?” she demands. It’s not what she should be asking. She shouldn’t be asking anything at all, should be snapping orders and getting them ready to move.

If this is real--

If Mal’s instincts can be trusted--

He blinks down at her, shadows making his eyelashes seem impossibly long over the hard curve of his cheekbones. Is he blushing? Why would he be blushing?

“Light,” he says, and a quiet thrill of victory shudders through Alina.

She smiles. “Then we had better get moving.”

*

They hunt.

It’s nothing like the raucous delirium of chasing prey through the forests of Os Alta. There had been an inevitability to that, knowing they whatever they were chasing had been put there specifically for them to chase, that there was no chance they wouldn't catch it.

There's a frenzy here too, but it's all in the tight, purposeful movements of a small and silent group, led by an _otkazat’sya_ of all things. Although Alina still has her doubts there, watching Mal slink through the forest without cracking so much as a twig. No normal human could do it, not even her superbly trained guards. There's something special about him.

There has to be.

Olga draws her aside after three days of this -little sleep, eating on the run. At times Alina thinks that she's seen their quarry, the milk-white fur of a beast that's half myth, onlyonly for it to turn out to be a snow drift.

Even for a Ravkan, she’s getting very tired of snow.

“We are not far from the border,” Olga murmurs, low enough that Alina has to strain to hear. “I wonder if you have considered what it means for a man who blatantly hates Grisha to be leading us into a country full of other men who also hate Grisha.”

“He wouldn’t--” Alina starts, before common sense catches up with her. No matter her fascination with the boy, she doesn’t have the kind of loyalty from him that she does from Erik or Olga, or even Genya. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose, kicking the logical part of her brain into action.

“He has no known contacts with Fjerda. It’d be foolhardy to be a Ravkan leading anyone into a trap in Fjerda while we’re in the middle of a war, much less me, if there was no one who knew you were coming.”

“Foolhardy doesn’t strike me as a _wrong_ word to describe him.”

Defensiveness prickles at the back of Alina’s neck, although she can’t quite place the reason - Mal, or her own decision making?

Olga holds up her hands, apparently catching the shift in her mood. “Sun Summoner, I’m only saying that you should be wary not to let sentiment blind you to danger. Ravka needs you too much for you to lose sight of your goal.”

 _Remember that you wanted them to feel like they could question you, Alina._ It takes a second, but she does manage to coax a grateful smile onto her face.

“I can’t exactly lose sight of it when I have you to steer me in the right direction, can I?”

“It’s why I stick around.” The woman ducks her head, stepping back. “That’s all, Sun Summoner.” 

Alina thinks that Olga is probably just being paranoid.

But she keeps her lattice of light firmly in hand as they approach the border anyway. Just in case.

*

They cross into Fjerda, and the Darkling comes for her.

Alina can tell herself she wasn’t waiting for it all she likes, but lying to herself is becoming more and more difficult the older she gets. The truth is that his absence had started like an annoying tear in a coat, and has since gaped open to a hole. She can feel the cold whistling through.

“Where are you?” 

She’s gotten used to a certain...warmth from this man. Heat, if she’s being honest. He’s not her support, but she can lean on him if she feels the need to rest.

There’s nothing of that man in the grim visage before her. His gaze is all ice, and for the first time in an age, she feels small to be under it.

“Hello, lovely to see you, missed you terribly.” She drops heavily onto her campbed. Her body aches, and she thinks longingly of her bed in the Little Palace. Maybe she can tease him out of whatever mood he’s stumbled into in her absence. She ignores the tremble in her hand

“Alina.”

“Don’t _Alina_ me because you’re in a bad mood,” she snaps, because anger is easier than the chill fear that’s sitting in her gut. Her fingers tangle in the chain around her neck, and she looks down at the pendant, how the alexandrite changes colour in the flickering light of the brazier in her tent. “Whatever’s happening between you and the king and Ravka, don’t take it out on me. I’m doing exactly what I told you I would do.”

Cool fingers curl under her chin, lifting her head. His expression is impassive, and that terrifies her more than any biting tone. She doesn’t like not being able to read him, doesn’t like feeling so off balance. 

Has it always been like this between them? Or is this just because she’s been on her own and in charge for so long that she’s noticing a change?

“Have you crossed into Fjerda?”

“Yes.”

“Are you leaving me, Alina?”

The words drop like a pebble into the frigid gulf between them. It takes a moment, for the ripples to reach her, for understanding to dawn.

Alina smacks his hand away from her face, surging to her feet. “ _That’s_ what this is about?”

He straightens to match her height and then exceed it, although there’s no backing away. He’s not really there, but she can _feel_ him, the heat of his body radiating towards her. Everything in her screams _forget this, have him_ , but she sets her jaw and glares at him instead. She is not so easily taken.

“You have your guards,” he says, in a voice like silk. “You have your _otkazat’sya_. You said the last time we met that you were unhappy with me, and now you are in Fjerda.”

“Chasing your dream!” No, that’s not quite right. “ _Our_ dream. You’ve wanted the stag for me for years, and now I’m finally on the verge of having it, you - you’re jealous?”

They both pause at that, Alina breathing hard, the Darkling almost unnaturally still. She turns the words over in her head, tilting her head to one side.

“You’re jealous.”

His jaw twitches. He says nothing, because of course he says nothing. A denial would be beneath him. But Alina can taste the truth of the words as they leave her tongue, and Saints, it’s sweet.

She pulls off one mirror lined glove to lay a hand on his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. A smile tugs at her lips, all of her bewildered anger abruptly draining away.

“What’s it like?” she murmurs. “Holding yourself apart for so long, only to find yourself falling, inch by inch?”

His hand closes around her wrist, and for a second she thinks that he’s going to pull it away. But the gentle pressure draws her hand to his mouth instead. 

He kisses the centre of her palm.

“I could have done without it.” The silk is gone, leaving only rawness behind. She likes it. “But now that I’m on this path, you might say that I cannot be turned away.”

She believes him. 

*

Of course, it follows that the next day is when they get attacked by Fjerdans.


	29. Chapter 29

_Come home, Alina._

The worst part is that he hadn’t actually said it. Oh, she hears it, his meltwater voice trickling through her thoughts, but any request that she return to him had been implied at best. And she can’t figure out - is it her he doesn’t have faith in? Her judgment, her choice to trust Mal on what she can admit looks like a wild goose chase?

Or is it just jealousy? The chances of that are slim, but Saints does the possibility taste sweet. She eyes the breadth of Mal’s shoulders as he forges a path forward through the morning snow. Maybe it's that, or the Darkling, or the thought of the stag being in reach, but she misses the stirring at the edge of her net of light. 

“Did you hear that?” Mal murmurs, and it’s quiet, soft enough to not startle any nearby animals, but it _is_ in Ravkan. He doesn’t know enough Fjerdan to be natural about it, so Alina hadn’t insisted that they all switch tongues while over the border.

So the arrow’s hiss makes no sense to a brain caught up in the power-plays of the Darkling, and a lifetime of the Little Palace’s finest education couldn’t teach Alina what that half-second does; when you’re past enemy lines, you focus on the war in front of you.

Mal’s body is hard and heavy as he shoves her down, and they hit the ground with enough force to drive the breath from her as an arrow slices through the air where her head had been. And then two more, and she doesn’t count after that because she can feel the shadows on the edge of her net now - not enough to worry about, but enough that she _should have noticed_.

“ _Fuck_.” Erik, her stoic and polite guard, bites off a curse and swings his rifle off his back. From her position on the ground Alina can’t see Olga, but she can feel the woman’s shadow creeping off in the direction of the attack. “Protect her!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Mal snarls, but he doesn’t move, his body plastered over hers. In a lower tone, although barely softer, he asks her-- “Are you all right?”

“Get off me.”

“You must be kidding.”

“Get off me before you find out just how serious I’m being.”

He meets her gaze and she isn’t surprised to see the stubborn thrust of his jaw indicating that he has no plans to move. Despite herself and the situation, she grins; open defiance is rare enough in her life to be entertaining, even when she’s nearly been shot in the head.

Especially then, really.

“You hired me to guard you,” he says, as shots ring out. “I’m guarding.”

“I hired you to _track_ something for me, and this whole situation is very much getting in the way of that.” 

Unfortunately for Mal, Alina had paid just as much attention to her lessons with Botkin as she had with Baghra. She _heaves_ , bracing herself and shoving, surprising the boy enough that his weight shifts. He makes a fair grab for her, but she’d expected that. Part of what she likes about him so much is his persistence. She twists out of his reach and starts to run to where she knows their attackers have to be.

“You didn’t think I only knew how to light things up, did you?” she calls back. To his credit, he’s on her tail, rifle in hand. “Put that down, you won’t need it. Erik, Olga! Duck please!”

Despite Erik’s obvious wish for her to stay behind, he reacts instantly, Olga only a beat behind him. The enemy, if they know the word at all, just isn’t quick enough to follow suit. Alina lets her frustration at having missed them in the first place bubble to the surface, her urge to prove herself, her thirst to be chasing more important prey.

Her arms swing up. She sees one of the men, a wild thing with a yellow beard and eyes bluer than the sky, nock an arrow and aim it.

Her arms swing down. Two great arcs of light roar out from her hands, and yells of surprise turn into screams of horror, screams of agony, broken briefly by the groan of trees falling before silence settles over the forest once more.

The whole process takes maybe ten seconds, most of that for the trees to fall. Alina looks back at Mal, flushed and grinning with success, only to find him staring grimly. Not at her, but the scattered bodies behind her. 

Body parts, she should say.

“What?” she asks, grin fading to a frown. “You’ve seen me do it before. I _saved_ you with it back on the Fold.”

“That was volcra.”

“That was ‘things that want to kill Malyen Oretsev’.” She throws up her hands. “Saints, you’re never satisfied, are you?”

His expression shifts into something somehow distant and focussed at the same time, but she’s not done. The defiance bit had been cute a minute ago, but if he’s going to be _judging_ her all the time, she’s not going to let him do it in silence.

“How about you tell me how I best could have murdered these men to suit your moral code, huh? Seeing as the Cut wasn’t to your liking. Or maybe I should have let one of them try ripping your arm out first before you’d be happy about it.” 

“Alina--”

“If you’re not telling me how the great tracker deals with ten men shooting arrows at him, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Fine,” he grinds out, only instead of either shutting up or giving her an alternative, he takes her by the shoulders. She’s about two seconds away from burning him when he bodily turns her around, and there’s the stag.

There’s the stag.

 _It’s smaller than I would have expected_ , is her first numb thought. Like it had somehow grown in her mind in the years of dreaming about it. To find its pale white shape only slightly larger than average is the hardest thing to believe about seeing a creature from legend standing in the blood and viscera of a dozen dead Fjerdans.

A thousand questions flow through Alina’s mind and out again as she dismisses them all as unimportant. This is it, she _knows_ this is it, can already taste the surge in power sweet like honey in the back of her throat. The creature is pale and perfect, its antlers twisting silver over its head as it regards her. There doesn’t seem to be any fear in its form, for all that it’s surrounded by bodies and - more significantly - four humans who are entirely capable of killing it.

She should do it now. One Cut to protect herself, another to protect her country. But the stag’s gaze seems to dig into her, black and fathomless in a way that’s nothing like the familiar shadows she has known for most of her life. The longer it looks at her, the less sure she feels, the honey in her mouth turning sour.

Ivan has his bear claw. Zoya has her bracelet. All Alina has to do now is kill her stag, and everything she has longed for will be in her grasp--

The stag turns away from her, and it’s like being punched in the gut. Alina gasps, staggers, and then Mal is there, his arms around her shoulders. It’s like time suddenly speeds up, or maybe it had been frozen before and only shudders back into motion now. Mal’s mouth is moving but she can only stare blankly at him, the bitterness of that sudden rejection spreading over her tongue, up the back of her nose, flooding her head until she thinks she might drown from it.

 _I am not yours_ that dark gaze had said, and she finds her fists curling in on themselves, mirrored gloves flashing in the weak morning sun.

“--give chase?” Mal is asking. Olga and Erik have returned, and all three of them are staring at her expectantly. 

Alina sucks in oxygen, the sharp chill clearing her head, reminding her how to breathe. She unlocks her jaw, nodding at Mal.

“Leave everything you can spare. We’re getting this thing tonight.”


End file.
